Playing the Players
by angelically-devilish
Summary: MARRIAGE LAW FIC! What happens when two people who thought they were destined for lives of free-wheeling and independence end up thrown together by meddling friends and a malicious Ministry? Why, nothing short of magic and mayhem! Rated M for mature!
1. Chapter 1: A Bad Day

**DISCLAIMER:** Didn't, Don't, and Won't own Harry Potter franchise, and have wept openly at the idea that I cannot make a living writing this stuff.

**SUMMARY:** Marriage Law Fic. I know, I know, I can hear the groans and the expected cliches and really, I do not aim to disappoint in terms of the cliche count. I just happen to like Marriage Law fics, because it gives me something to play with. :)

**A/N:** So I realize the potential issue of starting an entirely new story while I have several that I'm currently working on, but I'm the type of person that works extremely well when I'm not putting my full concentration on one project. I've gotten bored before and I don't want that to happen again! So for those of you who are waiting to see what happens next in _The Wolf and Little Red_ or _How to Make a Bad Idea Worse_, not to fear! They will be updated soon!

_READ AND REVIEW!_

**Chapter One: A Bad Day**

Hermione Granger, age 21, best friend of the Great Harry Potter and protégée of the late Albus Dumbledore, had a sinking suspicion that it was going to be a bad day.

When the light had streamed through the curtains that fateful morning, Hermione hadn't thought anything of it, choosing to simply groan and roll over to bury her head in the relative darkness of her pillows. She realized quickly, however, that there was an obstacle in her path. Her sleepiness informed her that it was, indeed, something solid, and after a minute she realized that it was another human being.

A decidedly naked human being.

Comprehension started to dawn on her as she ran through the events of the night before, not daring to turn and look at her companion until she had regained some semblance of her wits. She just wished that the infernally tone-deaf orchestra in her head would stop playing Bizet's _Carmen_ against her frontal lobe.

The night before was something of a blur. It had been someone's engagement party – there had been so many in recent months that she had stopped worrying about particulars like _who_ and _where_ – and afterwards she had been dragged out to some random pub with what remained of her single female friends. She had consumed more than her fair share of alcohol – most likely trying to ignore Lavender and Parvati's incessant complaining about their single status – and so the rest of the evening faded into a fuzziness from which she was sure she wouldn't recover.

Hermione next went to the task of figuring out just exactly where she was and who she was with. Once establishing that the figure next to her was, in fact, male – a not-altogether foregone conclusion in her experience – she looked around the room to figure out which man it was. The delicious ache between her legs could only have been caused by one of two people and when she saw the navy-blue and golden insignia of a quidditch team banner, she settled back into the pillows, praising herself on her detective work.

"Are you done trying to figure out where you are yet?"

Hermione smiled slightly. He knew her too well.

"Didn't take me as long as last time."

He chuckled.

"Considering the amount of restricted substances you were on _last time_, I was impressed you remembered your own name, let alone recognized my bedroom."

Her paramour had turned over to look at her and she smiled as she gazed into his twinkling brown eyes. Oliver Wood, reserve player for Puddlemere United, had been – for lack of a better term – her 'fall-back fuck' whenever she was too shit-faced to go back to Grimmauld Place. The arrangement had been going on for almost three years and though it wasn't as often as it had been in the 'old days' right after her graduation, they still appreciated the relationship. No feelings, no emotions, no strings. Just sex.

"Perhaps you can fill me in on how I got here? Last night is a little vague," she said, stretching out her body and loving the compliance of her muscles.

He laid his hand affectionately on her flat stomach, running his fingertips over her skin.

"I'm not entirely sure what happened. All I know if you showed up at my door wearing some ridiculously-short skirt at two in the morning completely pissed and demanding that I ravish you. Which I did. Twice."

She didn't miss his smirk as his fingers trailed up her sternum.

Looking at him in mock indignation, she swatted his hand away from her body and put her hands on her hips, knowing fully how absurd she looked, being completely naked.

"Oliver Wood, how _dare_ you take advantage of my drunken stupor! You should be thoroughly ashamed of yourself!"

He grinned.

"Absolutely," he said, the Scottish accent rolling his words around deliciously as he put his hands behind his head. "Thoroughly ashamed."

She chuckled.

"Well, thanks for taking me in. I'd thank you for the sex too, but I don't really remember it."

"You enjoyed it," he said simply.

She rolled her eyes.

"Arrogant prat," she mumbled, and he smirked again.

Sliding out of bed, she set about trying to locate all of her articles of clothing. Arching an eyebrow at her grinning lover, she gingerly removed her bra from the ceiling fan above the bed.

His eyes twinkled.

"Don't look at me, love," he said. "That was all your doing. You were in the mood for a little strip tease last night, and I was just an innocent bystander to your wicked wiles."

Shaking her head and silently telling herself that avoiding alcohol might do her some good for a little while, she slipped on her 'ridiculously short skirt' – a little black leather number that Ginny had brought back from a vacation in Las Vegas – and continued the search and rescue of her shirt and shoes.

"Are you going to be alright getting home? I'd offer to escort you, but I have practice in an hour," Oliver asked as he watched Hermione dive under the duvet to retrieve her t-shirt.

"I think I'll be alright," she said, her voice muffled slightly as she resurfaced, pulling on the white baby tee.

Oliver arched an eyebrow.

"'Mione, love, you _do_ realize you're in Dorset in October, don't you?" he asked, slightly amused.

"Oh. Yes. Well, in that case, perhaps you should gallantly offer me some type of warm clothing?"

He motioned absently with his hand to the chest of drawers in the corner.

"Second drawer."

She rolled her eyes but remained silent as she found an over-sized Puddlemere United pullover. Pulling it over her body, she started to fix her hair before her eyes caught the time. She let out a small gasp.

"Shit! Is it really almost 10?"

Oliver frowned slightly.

"Er…yes."

"Bugger!"

Sweeping over to her confused lover, she kissed him swiftly on the lips.

"Thanks, Wood. See you later!"

And she ran out without another word.

Sirius Black grumbled as he felt the dead weight of a sleeping hand on his back. His head ached slightly, but that wasn't new these days. He had once again consumed too much firewhiskey the night before and had ended up in bed with another good-looking vapid blonde slag.

At least, he _hoped_ it was a good-looking vapid blond slag.

Feeling the hand on his back start to caress his muscles in a decidedly feminine fashion, he groaned slightly, rolling away from her body so he was on his back and draping his arm over his eyes, trying to hide the sun.

"You have to go," he said, going to his standard one-night-stand brush-off, his voice slightly muffled by the skin of his arm. "I'm expecting people for brunch."

"Excuse me?" the nameless female conquest said, sounding slightly put out.

"I'm expecting guests," he repeated.

"In _my_ flat?"

Sirius paused. Rubbing his eyes with his hands, he glanced around.

The room was powder pink.

Right. Slight miscalculation there.

"Sorry," he mumbled before yawning and stretching, swinging his long legs over the side of the bed.

"I suppose you'll be leaving then?"

The voice was very cold. Sirius chanced a glance at her and saw her scowling. He couldn't help the small smirk that crossed his lips as he turned away from her. He still had it. He vaguely remembered her as the best-looking – and least accommodating – of all the girls at the pub the night before. She was a tall glass of Veela-infused water and he, Sirius Black, had tapped that all night long.

"Sorry, love," he said easily as he slid on his jeans. "But I wasn't lying when I said I was expecting company. Only, you know, at _my_ house."

She pouted slightly and he tried to refrain from rolling his eyes. He never led girls to believe that he was more than a one-night stand. He hated it when the morning came and they had built him into some gothic hero that needed saving via their love and affection. It annoyed him.

"Will I see you again?" she asked softly.

He glanced out of the window. Gray skies, bit of a gusty wind. His canine senses told him there was salt on the air. He was by the coast. He vaguely remembered Fred and George mentioning Dover the night before as they drunkenly apparated from pub to pub.

Or was it Dorset?

Either way, it was sufficiently far enough away from London that he wouldn't run the risk of seeing her ever again.

"It's possible," Sirius said noncommittally as he pulled his t-shirt over his head, ignoring the fact that it was inside-out.

Locating his boots, he slipped them on before grabbing his leather jacket and throwing the woman his trademark sexy smile.

"Good-bye, love," he said huskily, throwing her a wink. "It was a fantastic night."

And without another word, he left the room.

Hermione landed unsteadily on the top step of Grimmauld Place, her balance faltering slightly due to her heels. She hated apparating in heels, but the late hour insisted on the drastic measure. She felt a brief, intense dislike for Kingsley Shackelbolt for deciding that Order meetings needed to be at 10 AM on Sunday mornings. Even though she understood that with Voldemort back in hiding - and the Death Eaters poised to take over the Ministry any day now - it was imperative that the Order meet at times when _everyone_ was available, it didn't stop her from quietly griping about it cutting into her social life.

She had just straightened up when she felt someone apparate right behind her. Losing the fragile balance she had maintained on the top step of the hidden property, Hermione felt herself and her companion fall forward into the door. She cringed as whoever was behind her instinctively grabbed her hips to keep his or her balance, long fingers digging into the fresh bruises of the rough sex the night before.

Disentangling herself from what she had now assumed to be a male body, she turned to give her would-be assailant an earful. She paused, however, as a pair of mischievous gray-green eyes grinned at her, shielded boyishly by shaggy black locks and roguish good-looks that meant only one thing: she had collided with the master of the house, one Sirius Black.

He smirked at her outfit.

"Nice skirt, Granger."

She scowled.

"A little less grabby with the hands there next time, Black," she warned, smoothing out her skirt and swatting his hands away from her hips.

He rolled his eyes.

"A thousand apologies, Miss Granger," he drawled sarcastically. "I didn't expect another passerby in the mid-morning walk of shame."

"I'm not doing the walk of shame. I was with Wood. What's your excuse?"

He grinned.

"Don't need one. I'm just meeting everyone's expectations of my low moral character."

She rolled her eyes but said nothing as she opened the door and let them both in.

"So…how much did you have to drink last night that you ended up spending the night in Dorset?" he asked as they deposited their jackets carelessly on the banister and headed toward the kitchen.

"Somewhere between 'too much' and 'temporary invincibility'," she replied.

He chuckled.

"Oh yeah. I've been there."

They entered the kitchen where the majority of the Order had already congregated. A slight hush fell as they silently walked past the disapproving whispers around the table and headed straight for the coffee pot.

Hermione turned with her mug first, catching their eyes. They all turned away.

"Nice of you to join us, Miss Granger," the snarky voice of Severus Snape said silkily.

She gave a sardonic smile.

"I always aim to please you, _Severus_," she replied, knowing that her status as his former student allowed her to greet him informally and knowing that putting it into practice drove him crazy.

She caught Lupin looking at her, and felt herself blush slightly as he cocked an amused eyebrow at her outfit. As one of her two initial suspects for the actions the night before, Lupin had seen that skirt already, though it hadn't stayed on long after he had seen it. Hermione couldn't help but feel slightly heated as he let his gaze fall lingeringly on her long, toned legs in her ridiculously high heels. Lupin was the only one who could make her feel so deliciously primal.

"Um…Hermione," Kingsley said, clearing his throat in an attempt at forced calm. "You…er…haven't seen the paper today, have you?"

"No. Why?"

Harry and Ron made room for her at the table and she gave them both thankful looks as she sat, cupping her mug as it warmed her chilled body. Sitting across from her, Lupin silently slid her a copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Taking a sip of her coffee, she spluttered and choked as she read the headline, sending coffee all over the table.

Yes, indeed.

It was going to be a _very_ bad day.

* * *

script type="text/javascript"

var _gaq = _gaq || [];  
_ (['_setAccount', 'UA-35042036-1']);  
_ (['_setDomainName', ' ']);  
_ (['_trackPageview']);

(function() {  
var ga = ('script'); = 'text/javascript'; = true;  
= ('https:' == .protocol ? ' ssl' : ' www') + '. ';  
var s = ('script')[0]; .insertBefore(ga, s);  
})();

/script


	2. Chapter 2: A New Law

**A/N:** So, I woke up this morning and had about 30 messages in my inbox, which doesn't happen EVER because I'm sincerely not that popular but I realized that a good number of them were responses to this fic, which is awesome on the one hand and totally daunting on the other. Anyway, here's the next chapter. It's not quite as humor-filled as the previous one, but I just wanted to establish the actual _law_ aspect. A few good moments, though.

Oh, and someone asked what the significance of 'Dorset' was. Dorset is the county where Puddlemere United plays - yes, I was that dork that honestly looked it up - and so I assume that Oliver Wood would live there. It's also on the coast, hence the cold weather in October - although, if you've been to the UK in general in October, the landscape doesn't really change from county to county. ANYWAY...yeah. I put a random geography thing in. I guess it didn't work out to well.

_READ AND REVIEW, PLEASE! CAN'T GET BETTER WITHOUT FEEDBACK!_

**Chapter Two: A New Law**

"You cannot be serious! This is ridiculous! Who do they think they are? I swear to God the next time I see one of those ugly little platinum-headed silver-eyed pasty-faced..."

After reading and re-reading the article, Hermione had finally found her voice and had been ranting for almost three minutes straight. The headline '_Ministry Set to Pass New Marriage Law in Special Vote Tonight_' seemed to slap her every time she glanced at it. Turning her attention back to the meeting, Hermione looked mutinously around the room, as if daring someone to say something. The fierceness of her face must have made an impact, because the whispering from some of the older witches in the room ceased immediately.

"How did this happen?" she asked, slightly calmer now that she had exhausted most of the expletives in her vocabulary. She was unsure the blush on Molly Weasley's face would ever go away.

"This law looks to be passed based on several months of town meetings and a steady stream of public approval," Lupin said, his gaze fixed on the horrified young witch. "We didn't expect such a reception, nor such overwhelming support."

"Of _course_ we didn't expect it. We _never_ fucking expect things," she shouted, standing and starting to pace around the kitchen.

"Hermione, please. You're not the only one who is going to be affected by this law," Kingsley said.

"Oh yeah? How many other Muggle-borns are in this room?"

She looked around and saw that no one had raised their hand. Glaring daggers at Kingsley, she resumed her pacing.

"'Mione," Mr. Weasley said calmly. "You've worked on this legislation with us as well. Surely you see that there are _some_ merits to it."

Hermione spun to face him.

"Are you referring to the fact that it is blatantly anti-Muggle-borns, or the fact that it is decidedly anti-feminist?"

"I'm sorry, love," Lupin said sympathetically. "But right now it's out of our hands."

Hermione sighed, rubbing her face with a frustrated hand. She was tired. This wasn't what she had expected when she walked through the door this morning. In fact, she had been hoping it would be an easy meeting that lasted half an hour and didn't require her entire concentration. It _was_ the weekend, after all. She shouldn't be expected to be a genius _all_ the time.

"Perhaps I'm the only one," Harry said tentatively. "But could someone explain to me what this law entails? The paper wasn't very forthcoming."

There was a general mumble of agreement throughout the room, and Hermione saw Kingsley look to her for approval. She simply gestured with her hand, brushing the burden of explaining the law to him.

"Right," Kingsley said. "Well, as many of you might know, for many years now there has been some worry about the alarming amount of squib births in both pureblood families and Muggle-born families. There is a general fear that the magical population will soon die out if purebloods continue to marry within their bloodline or more wizards and witches marry Muggles. So in order to improve the chances of strengthening the magical bloodlines, some legislation was put forward to Ministry officials to discuss imposing arranged marriages in a certain demographic of the wizarding community."

He took a deep breath, watching Hermione as she slowly turned scarlet.

"The legislation requires every witch of age and out of school to marry within three months of the bill's passage or face up to seven years imprisonment for treason and sedition."

An angry murmur went around the room. Hermione felt nauseous.

"Well…" Ron said tentatively. "It doesn't sound _too_ bad, does it? I mean…it's not like they're choosing your partner _for_ you."

"Oh wait," Hermione said dully. "The fun's just begun."

All eyes turned to Kingsley, who shifted uncomfortably.

"Well…firstly…once the marriage has taken place, the witch has seven years to reproduce two children with provable magical powers or else the witch will be required to submit to medical examinations and trials at St. Mungo's in various studies on magical procreation."

"Alright," Harry said, slightly annoyed still unsure how this could create such a violent reaction from his usually-calm friend. "So there are stipulations. Seven years is a long time. The law could be revoked by then. I still don't understand…"

"Oh for fuck's sake," Hermione said, glaring at Kingsley. "The law states that a Muggle-born witch _must_ marry a pureblood wizard of good societal standing or the Ministry has the right to pair the witch off to whomever they desire. And Muggle-borns can't simply accept any bloody proposal. Their intended needs to submit a letter of intention along with a family seal and bank account information to the newly created Department of Magical Marriages for Ministry approval. In addition," she continued, raising her voice over the gasps of disbelief in the crowd. "Should the intended of the Muggle-born be deemed deficient in some way, the Ministry has the right to choose a suitable replacement."

She put her hand up, calling for silence as she paused for breath.

"Pureblood witches are not allowed to marry pureblood wizards unless they can prove there is no consanguinity for at least four generations. Furthermore, pureblood witches are restricted from marrying Muggles, Muggle-borns, or any wizard who has immediate Muggle relatives on the maternal side of their family."

This, of course, caused a general outcry.

"Wait a minute!" Ginny shouted, looking fierce. "What about those of us who are already engaged or in established relationships with people who don't fit the _Ministry's_ description?"

"Those cases have been factored in," Lupin said calmly. "If the couple can prove a long-standing relationship of at least nine months prior to the date of the bill's passage, there should be no danger of having to comply with the new legislation."

"Erm…" a small voice came from the corner and everyone turned to see Tonks looking nervous, her face a bright shade of magenta. She didn't have to say anything for most of the Order members to guess her concern.

After years of trying to hide from her sexuality, Tonks had finally accepted herself as a powerful, lovely lesbian. She had been enjoying the newfound freedom but, considering developments in magic had yet to conjure a living human from two beings of the same gender, it seemed her prospects were almost as dark as Hermione's.

"They…um…the Ministry, that is…have been nonspecific on the details of…er…alternative sexualities," Kingsley said, slightly awkwardly.

"I honestly don't think you have to worry about anything, Tonks. At least, not yet," Hermione said with a small smile, trying to sound confident for her fragile friend.

Tonks returned the smile halfheartedly.

"So, let me get this straight," a voice said and everyone turned in surprise to see Sirius. He was very rarely vocal – if even conscious – during Saturday morning meetings and people often forgot he was there.

"You're telling me that those of us who are still lucky enough to be single are now being…what…punished?"

Hermione knew she wasn't the only one to roll her eyes.

"Leave it to you, Sirius, to point out the salient points of the conversation," she said sarcastically. "I sincerely hope the Ministry has the good sense to leave your name out of the running for some poor Muggle-born witch to marry."

A hush seemed to fall over the crowd as Kingsley looked between the two.

"You know," he said thoughtfully, and all of a sudden Hermione was certain she wasn't going to like the direction the conversation was going. "Hermione, you can't really do much better than Sirius in terms of marriage prospects."

Both turned their heads so fast they nearly fell over.

"Excuse me?" Hermione demanded.

Lupin, catching the direction that Kingsley was going, decided to call an end to the meeting. Hermione could tell some of the members were disappointed that they wouldn't be able to see the inevitable drama unfold, but Lupin was resolute and soon the only people in the kitchen were the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place, Snape, and the Weasleys.

"Alright, throw this idea by me one more time," Hermione said, looking at Kingsley in mild disbelief. "You want me to marry _Sirius_?"

"I'd thank you to remove the disgust from your tone, _Miss Granger_," Sirius said hotly.

She ignored him.

"Well, let's look at the options in terms of pureblood wizards who can protect you – not that you need it," he added hastily as fire flashed in her eyes. "But I mean in the sense that you won't be mistreated."

"Alright."

"There are six Weasley brothers. Bill is married, Charlie lives in Romania, Percy is engaged, and Ron is in a serious relationship. So…would you like to marry one of the twins?"

Fred and George looked at each other before giving Hermione matching mischievous grins.

Hermione turned back to Kingsley.

"I would kill them within the first week and then I'd get chucked into Azkaban anyway. That's not an option." She looked at the twins and smiled slightly. "No offense, though, boys."

"None taken," Fred said with a wink.

"We'd probably kill you too," George added.

"Plus you're like a little sister."

"So it would be slightly awkward."

"Not to mention uncomfortable."

Hermione rolled her eyes. That was another reason she couldn't marry one of the Weasley twins. If she married one, she'd have to marry both, and her delicate emotional state wouldn't be able to handle the strain.

She sighed.

"So now that we've taken Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dumber out of the equation, who else is left?"

Kingsley looked thoughtful.

"Well, there's Neville Longbottom…"

"Just got engaged," Ginny interrupted. "To Hannah Abbott. Her engagement party was last night."

"Oh right! _That's_ whose party it was," Hermione mumbled, getting some amused looks from Harry and Lupin.

"Alright…who else?" Kingsley asked, looking for assistance from anyone.

Snape cleared his throat.

"As this could take some time, may I excuse myself from what I can assure you is a _riveting_ conversation in order to continue with my weekend?" he asked. "Regrettably, I cannot submit my name as a potential suitor for Miss Granger, as I am a mere half-blood."

Hermione didn't miss his smirk.

"I can assure you, _Severus_, that were you the absolute _last_ wizard on the planet and the entire re-population of the magical world weighed on our shoulders, I would be more than willing to let us die out than procreate with you," she said, earning a loud snort of laughter from Sirius.

Snape's smirk did not diminish as he let his eyes rest on her face.

"And I can assure you, _Hermione_," he said smoothly. "That were we to procreate, the pleasure would be entirely _yours_."

He shot her another smirk before sweeping out of the room. Hermione couldn't help but grin a little at his confidence. If the man wasn't so infuriatingly snide and superior, she was sure they could have found some common ground on a purely physical level.

Sirius, however, looked disgusted.

"Did Snivellus just make a sexual innuendo? I think…I think I might have thrown up a little bit in my mouth…"

"Oh grow up, Black!" Hermione snapped.

Lupin sighed, looking from his best friend to his lover and realizing just how easy it was to imagine them together. Though he cared deeply for Hermione – and secretly thought her to be the absolute best shag he had ever experienced in his life – Lupin knew that, as a classified 'half-breed', he would not be accepted as an appropriate husband. Sirius, on the other hand, was as pure as a pureblood could get and Lupin smirked slightly knowing that Hermione would never, _ever_ bore Sirius.

"Hermione," Kingsley was saying to the increasingly impatient witch. "You really need to think this through. There are very few pureblood families left who aren't loyal to Voldemort, and as much as I'd love to offer myself as a potential husband, I, like Severus, am a half-blood."

Hermione sighed.

"Do I need to make a decision now?" she asked.

"Yes. Because come tomorrow, Voldemort's supporters will be sending their letters of intention to the Ministry and if the right person passes enough galleons to an unsuspecting clerk, you could end up engaged to one of the Death Eaters without knowing it. And you know what they will do to you if you're forced to marry one of them."

Hermione tried to force back a shudder from her body.

"An eternal bonding to a Death Eater," she mumbled. "I'd rather marry Snape."

"Well, like he said, that isn't going to be possible, and quite honestly thank Merlin for that because we don't need another reason for you to start ranting a la Mrs. Black," Kingsley said with a chuckle.

Sighing and giving in to the inevitable, Hermione took a deep breath before turning to Sirius.

"Sirius Black," she said, gritting her teeth as she saw him smirking. "Will you marry me?"

Sirius put his hands on his hips in a manner eerily similar to her and gave her a look of mock indignation.

"No ring? No bended knee? No flowers? No music? Where's the romance? What type of a guy to you think I am? I insist on being seduced!"

"Sirius…" Lupin started wearily, but Hermione put up a hand to stop him. Slowly, she pulled off the pullover, revealing for the briefest of seconds her flat, toned stomach under her t-shirt. She let her hair fall in wild curls around her shoulders as she stood, slinking over to him, exuding sex.

"Mr. Black, _sir_," she said in a soft, husky, bedroom voice as she flicked her eyes shyly up to his. "Would you consent to be my husband...my _lover_…" She breathed the word 'lover' as she ran her hand over his chest, eyes still locked on his. "Until this law is revoked?"

She could feel every eye on her and from the small smirk that was barely visible on her lips, Sirius knew that she knew _exactly_ what she was doing – both to him and to every man in the room.

"I…er…_Christ_, 'Mione," he whispered, his eyes wide.

She let the smirk appear.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she said in her normal voice before leaning in to Sirius's ear and whispering:

"Seductive enough for you, Black?"

She nipped his earlobe, grinning as she saw him choke down a groan and, grabbing the discarded pullover from the table, she threw a wink to Lupin before flouncing out the door.

Kingsley started laughing. The rich, bass tone of it cut through all of the tension of the past hour, and soon all of the Weasleys and Lupin were laughing at the look of mingled horror and lust on Sirius's face. Even Mrs. Weasley, who had been growing less and less patient with Hermione's declining moral standards, was wiping tears from her eyes as she laughed with the rest of them.

"So," Kingsley finally said, chuckling. "Will the marriage license say Mr. and Mrs. Sirius Black, or Mr. and Mrs. Hermione Granger?"

Lupin grinned.

"Tell me, Padfoot…what does it feel like to be so completely and publically emasculated?"

"Shut it, both of you," Sirius growled, his gray-green eyes darkening in frustration.

"I envy you, mate," Fred said with a smile as he stood to leave. "Granger is _sexy_ when she tries."

"And sometimes when she doesn't try," George agreed.

"_Especially_ when she doesn't try," Lupin said softly, gazing at the doorway. "Now, if you'll excuse me…I have a young witch to ravage before you make an honest woman out of her."

He ignored Sirius's glare and Mrs. Weasley's cry of righteous anger as he ducked out of the kitchen door. He nearly collided with Hermione, who had been standing there the entire time, looking at her watch.

"Impressive. Two minutes. Any longer and I was going to have to come back in there and drag you up to my room."

Lupin grinned.

"Oh yes? And what were you going to do with me once you got me up there?"

She arched an eyebrow and turned away slowly. His eyes fell to where her hands were slowly inching down the zipper of her skirt. She let it fall to the floor, revealing a pair of lacy black Brazilian cut panties. She glanced behind her, unashamed of her half-naked state in the middle of the hallway.

"I was going to take a shower. Wanna join me?"

He growled in response, sweeping down to pick up the skirt before heaving her into his arms and charging up the stairs.

**A/N: Yes yes, I know you're all thinking one of two things: 1.- "I thought this was a Sirius/Hermione fic?" and/or 2.- "Yes! A Marauder sandwich fic!" Well...the answer is "Yes, this is a Sirius/Hermione fic but they're not going to fall for each other in the first two chapters are they?" to the first question and as for the second possible thought...maybe...not so sure as of yet.**

**Leave me reviews telling me what you'd like - put up a good enough argument and I might be convinced!  
**


	3. Chapter 3: A Greek Tragedy

**A/N:** So...this chapter. It's not perfect by any means, but I had spent the past two chapters concentrating on Hermione that I felt I had left poor Sirius out. So this is a decidedly Sirius chapter. There's a little more inner monologue-esque stuff than I normally write, but as this is more humor-driven than, say, _The Wolf and Little Red_, I thought it a little more appropriate.

Also, for those of you waiting for me to get to the intricate nature of the Marriage Law in question - aka the sex stuff that will inevitably be required of the characters - that's coming up in the next chapter. This was more for the Sirius perspective and the humor.

So bear with me! I'm trying to organize my thoughts into several different stories and plot lines, but I promise that this will get better.

_AS ALWAYS, READ AND REVIEW!_

**Chapter Three: A Greek Tragedy**

Sirius was sitting at the kitchen table nursing a bottle of firewhiskey and staring off into space. His thoughts were racing around his head. Everything seemed to be going so fast. One minute, he was laying peacefully in a random bedroom next to a nameless blonde, the next he was engaged.

That thought made his head ache even more. He was getting married. He, Sirius Black, ladies' man, man's man, man about town, was willingly donning the proverbial ball and chain. He was dooming himself to a life of clandestine affairs with loose women in seedy pubs and cheap hotels.

Through his alcoholic haze, he realized that his life was one big Greek tragedy.

Or perhaps a melodrama.

No.

It was definitely a Greek tragedy. With elements of farce.

Sighing, he took another swig from the bottle. After the meeting everyone had left the house to do God-knows-what now that half of them had weddings to plan. Hermione and Remus were the only other inhabitants who had decided to remain indoors but from the wicked look on Remus's face as he unceremoniously exited the kitchen that morning, it was unlikely Sirius would see either of them before midnight.

Bloody wolf.

He had grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol and over the course of the past few hours had slowly descended into a fascinating state of depressed drunkenness. It was a neat little world, occupied only be him, where reality was surrounded by a haze of fuzziness that made everything decidedly surreal.

He was sure he had seen melting clocks at some point.

His depression made him slightly guilty. He knew he had a lot to be grateful for – after all, if it hadn't been for Hermione, he wouldn't have escaped the Veil – but he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he would be _married_ to her in three months. It didn't matter that the marriage would be a sham or that his wife was smoking hot or that he could do _much_ worse in terms of potential life partner. He was going to be _married_.

The thought was truly frightening and as he went to take another swig from the bottle, he realized that it was empty.

Fantastic. Now he was depressed _and_ out of alcohol.

Yes.

Definitely a Greek tragedy. Forget the farce.

The door of the kitchen swung open and Lupin strode in, a pair of pajama pants slung low on his hips. His bare chest bore the evidence of his lycanthropy, scars criss-crossing his body as a trail of sandy-brown hair led from his navel down to his pants. He had pink scratch marks on his back and Sirius arched an eyebrow as he imagined Hermione raking her nails down his friend's back during a heated moment of passion.

"See something you like, Padfoot?"

Sirius focused back on Lupin and narrowed his eyes at the smirk on his friend's face. He sometimes hated the seeming-omniscience of Remus's knowing gaze.

"Looks like you two had fun," Sirius said dully, nodding to the love bites that were barely visible on Lupin's neck.

Remus chuckled.

"She's a wild one. Never a dull moment."

Sirius grunted and watched as Lupin leaned against the sink, drinking a glass of water. Taking in his friend's distraught state, Remus walked over to the table and sat across from Sirius.

"What's going on in that ever-scheming head of yours?" he asked.

Sirius scoffed.

"Wish I could scheme myself out of this one," he said.

Lupin arched an eyebrow.

"You _do_ realize that you're not really expected to be her true husband, right? I mean…" Remus smiled slightly. "Even Hermione is expecting you to go out carousing on a near-nightly basis."

"That's not the point. The point is I'll have to wear that damn ring and know that I no longer live alone and that somewhere at the Goddamn Ministry there will be a piece of paper attesting to my undying devotion to Miss Hermione Granger, a _girl_ twenty years younger than me."

Remus sighed.

"If age were really an issue, do you think she'd continue to fuck _me_?" he asked.

Sirius arched an eyebrow.

"Are you telling me that there is nothing but animal passion between you? Because I know we all kind of expected you two…" He trailed off and Lupin smiled slightly.

"Hermione and I get along very well. She's intelligent, generous, and damn sexy. It's hard for any man to resist, really. But in terms of an _us_…no. It's just sex. It doesn't mean anything to her. I'm hardly her only lover."

Sirius cocked his head to the side.

"Does it mean something to you?" he asked.

Lupin thought about it for a moment.

"It did at first. I was crazy about her. But as we started spending more time together I realized that I wasn't the guy for her. Don't get me wrong, I care about her deeply. But it's more as a friend than a lover. However," he added, smirking. "She _does_ make those restless nights before the full moon a lot easier."

Sirius sighed.

"Well, I give you my full permission to ravage my soon-to-be-bride as often as you care to, even after we're married."

Lupin chuckled.

"I don't think we're going to continue our relationship after you marry. I think it would be too awkward and raise too many questions. After all, society is still a _bit_ more tolerant of wizards cavorting outside their marriage than witches. Especially arrogant aristocratic purebloods."

"Yeah, I…hey!"

Lupin laughed.

"Sirius, it's not going to be so bad. After all, it's just a piece of paper. And if something happens and we can't get it repealed or have the heavy consequences removed, you still have at least four or five years before you have to worry about having children."

Sirius groaned, dropping his head to the table.

"I can't even _think_ about that clause of the law yet."

"Neither can she, to be honest. I think she had planned on remaining blissfully child-free for as long as possible."

They sat in relative silence for awhile, Lupin drinking his water and staring off into space and Sirius wondering whether his sudden relocation to the other side of world would be prudent. He had spent time in South America and had liked it there. Perhaps he could go back. He wondered briefly how many of his fellow Order members would demand his head on a platter for leaving Hermione in such an awful bind. It seemed almost unfair that all the expectation fell to him.

Maybe Ron and Luna would break up.

No. He shouldn't wish that on them. They were too perfect for each other.

Damnit.

"Remus?" a voice said from outside the kitchen and both men turned to see Hermione enter the room. She was wearing a plain white ribbed tank and what looked to be a pair of Lupin's boxers, rolled several times over her hips so they fit better. Sirius couldn't imagine why he hadn't noticed just how sexy she was before.

"Sorry, love. Got caught up talking to this depressed alcoholic," Remus said as she rounded the table and plopped herself on his lap.

Sirius glared.

"I'm _not_ depressed," he said.

Hermione chuckled.

"I'm glad that between 'depressed' and 'alcoholic', you decided to negate the quality that was least obvious."

His brow furrowed.

"What?"

Lupin laughed, looking affectionately up at his lover.

"I think he's a little too far gone for subtle wit, my dear," he said.

"If there is a day when Sirius isn't either too drunk or too hung over to appreciate my subtle wit, I will be assured that hell has, in fact, frozen over."

"Hey!" Sirius said, and she chuckled again.

"What are you brooding about, exactly? It's not like I'm going to be imposing any additional limitations to your behavior once we're married. Not that you'd listen to me anyway."

"So true," Lupin said, laughing.

"You two are quite obnoxious. Are you aware of that?" Sirius asked.

"We do it on purpose. Just to annoy you," Hermione replied.

"It's working."

Lupin smiled and looked up into the sparkling hazel eyes he had grown accustomed to. He knew Hermione had the potential to make his friend truly happy. And, from what he had heard from the whispering witches back in the hey-day of the Marauder's mischief, Sirius would be more that adequately able to satisfy Hermione's sexual appetite.

"I suppose we should get ready for bed. Tomorrow's a big day," Lupin said, stretching as best he could with Hermione on his lap.

"Oh yeah. I can hardly wait for it to arrive," Sirius spat.

Hermione sighed, conjuring a vial and handing it to Sirius.

"This should have you asleep in no time and you shouldn't feel any side effects of your drinking binge in the morning. It's a little invention of mine. Interesting experiment that went very right. Has worked wonders for me."

He smiled slightly at her.

"Thanks," he said gratefully, downing the potion she had offered. It tasted vaguely like strawberries and he suddenly felt his eyelids grow heavy.

Yawning, he stood and stretched.

"I think I'll turn in after all," he said. "What time do you want to leave for the Ministry, 'Mione?"

"The earlier the better. Why don't we plan to leave around 8:30?"

Groaning at the idea of rising at such an hour, he ran his hand through his hair, stifling another yawn.

"By 8:30…you really mean noon, right?"

She smiled.

"No, Sirius Black. I mean 8:30."

"Sadist."

She arched an eyebrow playfully.

"Only if there's leather."

Lupin chuckled as he saw Sirius's mind wander to an infinite number of possibilities. He could almost hear the slide-show of X-rated images that were flying through his friend's brain.

"Good-night, Sirius," Remus prompted.

"What? Oh. Good-night."

Walking out of the kitchen, Sirius wondered whether being married to a sex kitten would be such a bad thing. After all, it wasn't like she wasn't attractive. Actually, since her interesting display of sensuality that morning, Sirius was quite aware of his body's reaction to her. Perhaps having her in his bed every night would have its advantages…

No.

He mustn't think that way. This was Hermione Granger, the swotty little know-it-all who had infuriated him on more than one occasion many years ago when she was still young and innocent.

Well…maybe not so innocent.

And she definitely wasn't 15 anymore.

And he could only imagine what she had learned from all those books she read.

_No_.

He really needed to stop thinking about her in any way other than his friend.

His very _hot_ friend.

His very hot and _sexy_ friend.

His very hot and sexy friend who would soon be his _wife_.

Damnit.

Walking into his room, Sirius noticed that both Hermione's presence and his impure thoughts had caused quite a large problem. He groaned, leaning against the closed door and letting his head fall back against it. Since when had the idea of Hermione given him an erection?

Since that morning. With that skirt. And her seduction.

The gods were punishing him. He was sure of it. After all, one couldn't spend a life drinking and carousing and think there wouldn't be any celestial retribution. So now he was sentenced to a sham marriage with a sexy witch half his age who he couldn't stop imagining completely naked and writhing underneath his thrusting body.

Yes.

_Definitely_ a Greek tragedy.


	4. Chapter 4: A Little Ministry Mischief

**A/N:** Hey everyone! So, real quick note...I realized I screwed myself on my time line (in terms of days) by saying the first (and second and third) chapter happened on a Saturday. Oops. I changed it to Sunday, so it makes sense for them to go to the Ministry the next morning. I don't know if people noticed or if it bothered them, but it bothered me, so consider it changed!

Anyhooters, thank you to everyone who has been so kind with their reviews, and please keep them coming! I love the feedback, and if there are any glaring mistakes please let me know!

**Chapter Four: A Little Ministry Mischief  
**

At 8:20 the next morning, Sirius trudged down the stairs to the kitchen, hoping against hope that some other misguided early riser had made coffee. He yawned. He was certain it should be illegal to be forced to wake at such an hour. Especially if the purpose was to go to the Ministry of Magic to start the frightening process of binding himself to the girl who had been at the forefront of his erotic fantasies all night.

Pushing through the kitchen door, he saw Harry and Lupin discussing something. They both paused as he stalked past them to the coffee pot.

"Good morning, sunshine," Lupin said with a smirk.

Harry's brow furrowed.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Sirius, but what are you doing up before noon?"

"Your swotty best friend seems hell bent on making my life miserable," Sirius replied gruffly, collapsing onto one of the chairs and taking an indecently appreciative sip of his coffee.

"She's not without her reasons, Padfoot," Lupin said, sliding that morning's copy of the _Daily Prophet_ over to him. He barely blinked as the headline read _'Marriage Law Passes in Landslide Vote'_.

"It's not like we didn't expect this," he said dully, pushing the paper away.

"I know it's difficult, Sirius, but _try_ and see if you can read just a _few_ words passed the headline before your brain overheats," Hermione's sarcastic voice said and Sirius turned, armed with a snide retort, but found himself speechless as she entered the room.

Dear Merlin, when did she get so sexy?

She was dressed fairly conservatively – by _his_ standards, at least – but there was something about her confidence that was staggeringly sexy. Her crisp white blouse highlighted the gentle curve of her breasts before tapering down to a pair of hip-hugging pinstripe trousers. Her curly hair was up in a fashionable twist and her elegant black cloak was draped over her arm. A pair of low peep-toe pumps clicked against the stone floor.

He caught her scent as she passed him and inhaled deeply. Dark, exotic, and intoxicating.

He hadn't realized he had closed his eyes until he reopened them to see Lupin smirking in amusement. Sirius scowled at his friend and went back to his coffee.

"God, Sirius, can you at least make an _attempt_ to look like you live up to your socio-economic background?" Hermione said after she had appraised him thoroughly.

He frowned.

"What?" he asked. He had put on clean clothes. Discreetly sniffing himself, he sighed.

Well, clean-ish.

"Black jeans and a quidditch t-shirt is _not_ the proper outfit to prove you are not a substandard husband," she said sternly. "Why aren't you taking this seriously?"

A look of warning from Harry choked down his bad pun on her word choice.

"I'm sorry, kitten. I wasn't thinking. I'll go change."

"And shave!" she called as he exited.

He rolled his eyes.

"Yes, dear," he muttered mockingly as he climbed the stairs back to his room.

***

"Hermione, will you relax?" Sirius said for the seventeenth time as the two sat in the pristine white waiting room of the Department for Magical Marriages. She had been fidgeting for the past hour, trying not to explode as the bored clerk took his sweet time going over Sirius's proposal.

"Relax? Oh, yeah, right. Like it's that bloody simple," she spat.

He sighed.

"This won't get easier if you dwell on it."

"_Dwell_…Sirius, there are 157 new amendments to this law," she hissed, quoting for the third time the figure that had appeared in the _Daily Prophet_. "For all I know, the law could now state that by marrying you, I'm surrendering my free will!"

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Trust me, love, I'm not that lucky."

"And then…hey!"

He smirked before sighing and running his hand comfortingly over her back.

"Whatever the changes are, we'll get through them. Together. Because we're in this for the long haul, kitten, whether you like it or not. 'Til death do us part."

She sighed and let herself relax against his hand. He continued to slowly massage her shoulders as she crossed her legs.

When he had reemerged into the kitchen, Hermione had almost dropped her coffee mug. She had never seen him looking so stylish. Sure, she had seen him in his Muggle finery, decked out to play the part of the mischievous bad boy in denim and leather. But now he was almost elegant. Pleated black linen trousers, a starched white shirt, and robes of pale gray the brought out the green in his eyes. He had shaved and she had to admit that Sirius Black definitely lived up to his reputation as the handsome Marauder.

Well, to be fair to Remus and James – she had stopped thinking of Pettigrew as a Marauder since her third year of school – they were all handsome. But Sirius was undeniably sexy.

She looked at him in mild curiosity. Thinking him _sexy_ was definitely something new. Handsome, yes. Gorgeous even, certainly. Sexy? Well, she had fastened _that_ attribute to a certain growling, feral companion of hers.

She decided it was just the elegance of the outfit and moved on.

She found herself oddly comforted by Sirius's moving fingers. It had been a long time since she had had a decent back massage that hadn't been interrupted by sexual advances. Lupin had tried, on many occasions, to be the caring, attentive lover who calmed and comforted her in those dark days after the war. Ron too, before him. But as much as she cared and respected both men, she did not love them, and so she had pulled away to maintain the friendship – or in Lupin's case, the emotionless physical relationship – before either of them became irreversibly attached to her.

"Mr. Black?" the clerk finally said lazily, and the two stood to approach him.

"About bloody time," Hermione mumbled, receiving a small smirk and a quick swat on the behind from Sirius.

"Your paperwork seems to be in order. But you should know there are several other proposals for Miss Granger that came in this morning that also need to be considered," the clerk said in the same bored monotone that he had greeted them with.

"What other proposals?" Hermione demanded.

The clerk bristled.

"I really don't see how that is any of your…"

"This is the woman whose future you hold in your hands, mate, so just answer the lady's question," Sirius interrupted, the cool silk of his tone making the clerk sit up a bit straighter.

He shuffled a few papers around.

"There's one from the young Mr. Malfoy, another from Mr. Dolohov, and a third from a Mr. Amycus Carrow."

Hermione gave a very unladylike snort.

"I'm sure they all have the most honorable of intentions," she said sarcastically. "But as it happens, I feel it necessary to point out that none of them are my _desired_ fiancé."

The clerk's nostrils flares slightly.

"As I'm _sure_ you are aware, Miss Granger," he said tightly. "In accordance with the new Marriage Law, your _desires_ are not of any relevance."

Hermione felt a rage bubble in her that set her cheeks aflame, but Sirius quickly placed himself between her and the smug clerk.

"As you can clearly see from my proposal," he said, ignoring Hermione's angry growl of resentment at his intervention. "I refuse to take 'no' for an answer. So how many galleons is it going to take for you to sign the fucking license?"

He ignored Hermione's indignant yelp of protest and the clerk's eyes narrowed.

"Sir," he said, though the look on his face told Sirius that it pained him to use the respectful term. "I should warn you that the bribery of a Ministry official is punishable by…"

"My good man, I'm sure you're aware that I have spent a good portion of my life within Azkaban prison and so your threat falls on jaded ears," Sirius said, hoping his eyes did not reveal the fear that gripped his heart at the mention of the hellish place. "Furthermore, what is the penalty for the Ministry official who _accepts_ the bribe, as I am sure mine has not been your first offer?"

The clerk had the good sense to look slightly stricken by the accusation.

"I _assure_ you, Mr. Black, that I am an exemplary employee without the slightest blemish on my record."

"Good to hear it," Sirius said, allowing himself a sardonic smirk. "So since the lady clearly has no objections to my query, perhaps you can stop wasting our time and sign the license before this escalates to the point where I'm forced to speak with your supervisor."

With a silent, mutinous glare, the clerk pulled an official piece of parchment from the drawer beside him and with a reluctant flourish of his quill, signed his name beside the Ministry seal. With a wave of his wand, he cast a binding charm to the document before shoving it into Sirius's hands.

"You have one month to marry in front of a Ministry official, upon which your signature and that of your…" He glanced disdainfully at Hermione. "Your _intended_ will bind you irreversibly to each other for the remainder of your natural lives."

Sirius suppressed the shudder that went down his spine at the finality of the words.

"_One_ month?" Hermione said with a start. "I thought we had three?"

The clerk quirked an eyebrow.

"Under amendment 26b of the Marriage Law, the couple has _one_ month from the Ministry registration to marry. That isn't going to be a problem, is it?"

Sirius grasped Hermione's twitching wand hand and gave a jovial bark of a laugh.

"You know new brides," he said with a smirk. "Need time to prepare all those innocuous little wedding details." He leaned in with an air of confidentiality to the clerk. "Between you and me, I just think she's a tad nervous about the wedding night. Blushing bride, and all. Haven't had a chance to…er…_sample the goods_, if you catch my meaning."

He could tell that Hermione was positively fuming by the way the clerk glanced at her with a smug smile.

"I see, he replied, handing Sirius the requisite Marriage Law documentation, including an official copy with amendments. Sirius could have sworn the man winked at him.

"Good luck with her, Mr. Black," the clerk added and waved them out.

Hermione was silent as they walked down the hall toward the lifts. Sirius could tell from the way her nostrils flared and her lips were pursed that he was in for an eruption the likes of which would have Lord Voldemort himself ducking for cover. He silently hoped the lift wasn't empty so he could prolong the silence, however uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, the gods didn't see fit to grant his small request, and he braced himself as they stepped into the empty gilded vehicle.

"_Sample the goods_?!" she shouted as soon as the grate closed, and he flinched as she punched him hard in the arm.

"Do you have _any_ idea," she seethed. "How utterly _degrading_ that was? It's enough that I have to marry an overgrown _teenager_, but to be presented as some naïve little child bride…and then to be _bartered_! How many galleons were you prepared to give him, Sirius? What was my _price_?"

"Hang on," he said, turning to face her. "Are you angry because me bribing him made you feel like a whore or because I insinuated you were a virgin?

"_Insinuated_?! You as good as _announced_ it!"

He couldn't help a smirk.

"And that bothers you? I would have thought it increased your market value. Less milage."

Blissfully, the grate slid open before she could say anything and Sirius strode arrogantly into the Atrium, feeling rather triumphant. No sooner had he taken three steps, however, he felt his legs give out from under him. He cringed, expecting the impact of the unforgiving pique floor, but he didn't fall. Instead, he bobbed around like an idiot, his legs bowed awkwardly as if his bones were made of jelly.

Hermione swept by him with a self-satisfied little smirk and he knew she had hit him with a silent Jelly-Legs Jinx.

"Come along, Sirius," she said loudly, drawing attention to him and his predicament. "Stop larking about."

"Why you little…" he murmured, feeling his cheeks burn as he tried to hobble after her and hearing loud sniggers from the witches and wizards around them as his legs stuck out awkwardly, making him look ridiculous.

"Oh _honestly_, Sirius, if you _insist_ on acting so _childish_…" the cunning little witch said in mock impatience as she admirably held back her amusement. "_Mobilicorpus!_"

He felt a distinct lack of muscle function as the charm levitated him a few inches off the ground and sent him trailing behind her like a subservient house elf. Utter mortification struck him as several people pointed and laughed.

"He came to visit me at work and just didn't want to leave," Hermione said innocently to a witch who stood chuckling next to the floo. "But I just _can't_ get any work done with him pestering me."

Sirius was certain she was enjoying herself entirely too much to be appropriate.

"Alright, darling, quit pouting. I'll see you at home later tonight," she said soothingly to him as she led him to the floo. Leaning in to whisper in his ear, she said:

"Don't fuck with me, Sirius Black, because I never lose."

And with an indulgent smile and a chaste kiss, she pushed him into the fireplace.

***

Hermione laughed all the way from the Atrium to her office in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. The look on Sirius's face had been absolutely priceless as she marched him through the lobby, treating him like a petulant child. From the look of utter mutiny on his face when she pushed him into the floo, she knew his revenge would be swift and merciless. She had challenged him and no one rose to a challenge quite like the handsome Marauder.

"I take it things went well?" a curious voice asked from her office door and Hermione looked up from her desk to see Harry leaning casually against the frame.

She smirked.

"Not as well as I would have liked, but it had its compensations," she replied, and proceeded to explain the morning's events to her increasingly-amused best friend.

"You realize you've started a war, don't you?" he asked, sitting sprawled out in one of her office chairs in a manner characteristic of his godfather. "Sirius isn't going to take that lying down."

"Oh, I know," she said, her eyes sparkling. "But I couldn't resist a bit of fun after his stunt in the Department of Magical Marriages."

Harry chuckled.

"That _was_ quite cheeky of him," he admitted. "But still…" He smirked. "The idea of _you_ as a blushing bride really is quite laughable."

She arched an eyebrow.

"I didn't hear _you_ complaining when you were groaning in ecstasy in Hagrid's cabin that one time sixth year. I believe your exact words were '_Bloody fucking goddess,_' if memory serves."

It was her turn to smirk as he blushed vermilion and coughed.

"Yes…well…you weren't exactly silent that night either," he mumbled.

Then he looked at her nervously.

"You…er…you didn't tell Ginny about that, did you?"

She smiled slightly.

"While you, Mr. Potter, seem to immerse yourself in trouble wherever you go, I, on the other hand, have no such death wish."

He chuckled, slightly relieved that she was smart enough to avoid incurring the wrath of the ferocious redhead.

Before either could continue along that line of reminiscence, a lanky blur of red hair skidded to a stop outside Hermione's office before bounding excitedly into the room.

"Is it true, 'Mione?" Ron asked, a flush of awe and admiration on his face. "Did you _really_ hex Sirius in the Atrium?"

Laughing, Hermione retold the story to her other best friend.

"Bloody brilliant," he said as he sat gracelessly in the other chair. Hermione briefly wondered if there were _any_ men in her life who could sit in a chair properly.

"Bet you anything the twins are gonna take the mickey out of him when they find out," Harry said, still chuckling at the image of Sirius bobbing around awkwardly in front of dozens of amused spectators.

"Oh, without a doubt," Ron said gleefully. "Legendary, that was, 'Mione. Absolutely wicked."

"Still…I don't envy you," Harry said. "I guarantee he'll have some equally epic prank planned out by the time you're home."

"Which is why," she said with a grin. "I don't plan on coming home until very late. I'm meeting Oliver for dinner tonight to let him know about Sirius."

"Anyway, she can handle it," Ron said with a touch of pride. "After all, she _is_ a Gryffindor."

"With the brains of a Ravenclaw, the loyalty of a Hufflepuff, and the cunning of Salazar Slytherin himself," Harry added.

"Exactly," Hermione said with a smirk. "So really…the one you ought to worry about is _Sirius_."

Both her friends chuckled as they stood to leave.

"Well, between the two of you, my galleons are always on the brains. Don't get too cocky, though, 'Mione. Sirius won't surrender without one hell of a fight," Harry said.

She smiled.

"I'll consider myself duly warned."

Throughout the course of the day, various colleagues stopped by to express their hearty admiration for her impressive prank against the infamous mischief-maker. Even Moody, who had often expressed his contempt for such immaturity, cracked a crooked smile when she bumped into him on her way to get her mid-afternoon coffee.

It wasn't until Lupin stopped by later that afternoon, however, that she started to get a little insight into just what sort of battle of wits she had unintentionally entered into.

"You should have heard the language he was using," Lupin said with a chuckle. "I thought Molly was going to wash his mouth out with soap."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Hermione said wryly, smirking as she remembered the moment when Mrs. Weasley's idle threats had turned into Sirius frantically swatting away several bars of soap as he gagged on a mouthful of suds.

"He was hiccupping bubbles for a week," Lupin mused laughingly. Then he sighed. "Anyway, I just came to warn you that he has something up his sleeve. I would start by being _extremely_ wary of your lingerie drawer."

She grinned.

"Leave it to Sirius to plan retribution involving undergarments."

Lupin smiled, standing to leave.

"So…will I see you tonight?"

He couldn't hide the flicker of hope in his eyes.

"Probably not," she said with an apologetic smile. "I'm meeting Wood for dinner. I need to tell him about Sirius."

Lupin nodded and she could tell he was hiding mild disappointment.

"I'll see you tomorrow then," he said.

"That's if Sirius hasn't transfigured me into a tea pot via a pair of rogue underwear," she joked, standing and walking him to the door. She gave a quick look around before kissing him passionately, knowing she would miss his gentle caress once she was married.

"I'll see you later," she said breathily.

"Alright, love," he replied before walking out into the hallway.


	5. Chapter 5: A Lover's Farewell

**A/N:** So I realized I made another faux pas (this is what happens when you write at ridiculous hours of the night) as I have realized that there are more time frame inconsistencies, this time dealing with Lord Voldemort and the second war. _Technically_ in my mind, there has been some type of 'Battle of Hogwarts'-esque thing that scared Voldyshorts (saw that nickname somewhere and thought I'd adopt it) back into hiding, so when there are comments in the story that say "after the war," that's essentially what I mean. He is, however, still very much a present threat, as the Marriage Law itself suggests.

Again, it was something that was bothering me. Dunno if it bothered anyone else but for my own sanity I thought I should address it. Also, this chapter is decidedly darker than the other 4, but bear with me because it was necessary, as it explains a few things and ties up some loose ends.

Also, to **DarkestAngel8990** - Thanks so much for reviewing each chapter! Much appreciated! And I know you wanted the sandwich, but in the end I decided it's possibly not the smartest idea. But I promise I _am_ working on a long fic where there is definitely some sandwich action :)

*note to self - must stop making author notes as long as the fic...* READ AND REVIEW!

**Chapter Five: A Lover's Farewell**

"Merlin 'Mione…you look stunning. To what do I owe this elegance? Have I missed our anniversary?"

Hermione chuckled as she greeted Oliver outside the small seaside bistro they often went to together. It wasn't for from his apartment and both had surmised early on that it would be easier to eat there lest they needed – for various reasons – to make a hasty get-away.

"You don't look too bad yourself," she replied, kissing him on the cheek before admiring his outfit. "But let's go inside. I'm a bit cold," she added, nodding to her simple yet slightly scant dress.

He smirked.

"I noticed," he said, nodding to the way her nipples pressed against the fabric of her bust.

She slapped him playfully.

"Eyes up," she admonished with a small smile and he chuckled, his hand on the small of her back as he led her inside.

They were seated very quickly and - being who they were - received some curious looks from the other patrons. Hermione disliked this aspect of both her and Oliver's lives. She sometimes wished that they could go to Muggle establishments more often to avoid the prying eyes of the wizarding world.

"So…what was so urgent that I was almost pecked to death by that bloody owl you sent waiting for a response?" he asked, showing her his bandaged fingers as proof.

She smiled slightly.

"I'm sorry about that. But it _was_ fairly urgent."

He nodded but did not pry as the waiter came to take their drink orders. She could tell by the way the young man, who was barely old enough to be out of school, looked reverently at Oliver that he was almost bursting with excitement at the fact that he was serving Oliver Wood, the professional quidditch player.

"So," Oliver said once the eager young man had left, taking her hand affectionately with his bandage-less one from across the table. "What is this urgent matter you needed to discuss? Does it have something to do with your abrupt departure from my flat Sunday morning?"

She bit her lip nervously.

"A bit," she said. Then, with a deep breath, she added: "I'm getting married in a month, Oliver."

He didn't look particularly shocked – or if he was he was very good at hiding it – but he averted his eyes for a moment. When he looked back at her, she could see a quiet sadness that was slightly heartbreaking. She knew that Oliver, like her, had other lovers, but she doubted he felt as connected to them as he did to her. They had developed a close, affectionate relationship over the years and she was starting to feel somewhat guilty for taking advantage of it.

"Lupin finally snagged you, eh?" he finally said with a slight smile.

"Um…no. Actually…I'm marrying Sirius."

Oliver's eyebrows shot up.

"Sirius? Sirius _Black_?"

She smiled slightly.

"Er…yes."

His brow furrowed and she could see the confusion in his eyes. Everyone even remotely close to Sirius knew of him and his reputation as a lady-killer. The idea that he was settling down at all, let alone getting _married_, seemed slightly far-fetched.

"I know what you're thinking," Hermione said. "And trust me, it's just a marriage of convenience."

Comprehension seemed to dawn on him.

"The Marriage Law," he said quietly. "I hadn't really thought about it but I suppose I should have realized sooner."

"It _is_ a bit of a nuisance, isn't it?" she said, trying to joke but seeing not laughter in his eyes as he chuckled halfheartedly.

"I don't suppose you could marry me?" he asked softly.

She smiled sadly.

"Would that I could," she said. "Unfortunately, you're a half-blood and we don't have sufficient evidence to prove that we've been together for longer than the required nine months."

He sighed.

"No, I suppose note."

The waiter came back with their drinks and they returned their menus unread. Neither of them seemed to have much of an appetite anymore.

They drank in silence for a few minutes, both not in much of a mood to speak. Hermione wondered how many other casual couples in England were having this same discussion, torn between their duty to the magical world and the idea of what 'might have been' had the Ministry left well-enough alone.

"How's Harry?" Oliver finally asked as his thumb caressed the inside of her wrist absently.

"He's good," she replied. "He and Ginny are engaged. But I suppose you expected that."

Oliver chuckled.

"I knew he was going to become a Weasley somehow. Either by marriage, or outright adoption."

She laughed.

"They seem very happy, though," she added. "They're engagement was perfect timing, really. It was literally a month ago."

"And how about your other Weasley friend? The youngest brother?"

"Ron? He's good. He's getting married too. Though, like me, it's more because of the Marriage Law than anything else. Still…" She sighed. "At least he loves her."

They sat in silence for another few minutes before Hermione got the distinct feeling that she was being watched. With an eye honed from nearly a decade of living in constant fear, she surveyed the small bistro as discreetly as possible.

It didn't take long for her to find the source of her discomfort.

"Fuck," she murmured under her breath.

Oliver frowned.

"What?"

Hermione slowly, subtly removed her hand from his, causing his frown to deepen.

"Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy are here and they're watching me," she said softly.

"Why?"

She explained to him quickly what she had been told by the clerk at the Ministry regarding the other proposals for her hand in marriage. He seemed slightly shocked that Draco's name was among them.

"But I thought the Malfoys were fanatic about bloody purity?" he asked.

"They are. You can bet that their proposal wasn't meant honorably."

"But surely the Ministry…"

"You know as well as I do that the Ministry would let the Malfoys take over the Wizengamot if they gave enough gold," Hermione interrupted, stealing another glance at the platinum-blonde-headed couple.

Then she sighed.

"I'm not worried about being married to Draco. Sirius and I registered this morning, so that's all squared away. What I _am_ worried about is the Ministry finding out the marriage is fake, and I can bet you anything Lucius is following me to see if I do anything inappropriate with you."

Oliver sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his face.

"You know, 'Mione, nothing is ever _simple_ with you," he said and she was surprised to hear anger in his tone.

"Wood, I…"

"No, don't," he interrupted. "In the three years we've been doing…whatever the hell it is that we're doing, I've learned next to nothing about you. And I've been quiet about it. But at some point did you ever think about what type of toll that takes on a guy?"

She frowned.

"I never thought…"

"You appear and disappear at all hours of the night. You're always gone before 10 AM on Sundays. You're suddenly getting _married_ and you have Lucius fucking Malfoy trailing your every move…I'm not Harry, Hermione. I don't like living day to day in mystery and adventure. I'm simple, and you're not, and this has to end before I get hurt."

She gaped at him.

"Wood…I would _never_ let anything dangerous happen…"

He sighed in frustration.

"That _wasn't_ the type of hurt I meant." He sighed. "Look, I know you're the brilliant, powerful, successful Hermione Granger that dictates her own life, but sometimes it's nice to be needed. That's why I've enjoyed making love to you for so long. It's the _only_ time in your life when you relinquish some of your control."

Hermione looked at him for a moment, unsure of how to respond. She had never intended to hurt anyone but she was slowly realizing that Sirius's policy of 'love 'em and leave 'em,' while slightly cruel, was probably more effective than her method of trying to avoid any strong emotional ties in a longer, physically-based relationship. She hadn't thought of the long-term repercussions of her actions.

"I'm sorry," she finally said. "I didn't think that…well…I didn't think. Full stop."

He nodded.

"I'm sorry too," he said quietly.

Then he cleared his throat.

"I…uh…think you should go. I'll take care of this," he added, dismissing the purse she had pulled out. "I'll send you an owl so we can exchange those small things that we've deposited at each other's residences over the years."

He didn't leave room for argument and she didn't give him one.

Forgetting for the moment where they were and who was watching them, Hermione took Oliver's hand softly in hers and gently kissed his palm. The skin was rough and callused from many hours on a broom, but she had always loved his hands. Now, she was saying good-bye to those hands. To them, to him, and to what had existed in blissful limbo between them.

This was good-bye for good.

As she walked away, she wished she could cry. In the old days before Voldemort's second disappearance, the slightest thing would set her off. The waterworks would flow and both Harry and Ron had come up with several amusing nicknames for her. But once Dumbledore had died and the world had opened their eyes to the looming terror, the crying ceased. She had barely shed a tear once since then.

Dreading what lay before her at Grimmauld Place, she reluctantly apparated back to her home. The lights were lit in the hallway and happy laughter came from the kitchen. Looking at her watch she realized they had probably barely finished dinner. Steeling herself against everything and anything, she went down in search of the one person she could really talk to about what had just happened with Oliver.

"Hermione? What are you doing home so early? I was certain I'd catch you skulking in at some ungodly hour of the morning," Harry said jokingly when he saw her. His smile immediately faded, however, when he saw the distant look in her eye. "'Mione, love, what's wrong?"

She said nothing as she scanned the kitchen, her gaze falling on Lupin. He was in deep discussion at the far end of the table with Kingsley, but both men looked up when they felt her eyes on them.

"I know you're busy," she said, her eyes on those of her lover. "But when you're done, can we speak in my room?"

Lupin nodded silently and she turned to leave, but Sirius's voice stopped her.

"You might want to go to Lupin's room," he said. "I wouldn't go into yours until you're in better spirits."

She turned to look at him and she felt an air of comfortable camaraderie pass between them. He had been in the situation that she stood in now, and he knew whatever epic prank he had planned could wait.

"Thank you, Sirius," she said sincerely, and walked out.

Ten minutes later, Lupin walked into his room.

Hermione sat on his bed, the skirt of her dress riding up her strong thighs as she sat cross-legged, gazing out the window at the moon. She had always had a fascination with the bright silvery-white orb and he had often wondered whether she had been a werewolf in a past life. He leaned against the door frame for a few minutes, just watching her. She was so small yet so full of life.

"What happened with Wood?" he finally asked, closing the door to get her attention.

She looked at him and he was almost amazed at how sad she looked while still remaining dry-eyed. But he knew she hadn't cried in years.

"I told him about Sirius. He didn't seem too surprised but it hit him pretty hard anyway. The whole thing went downhill when Lucius and Narcissa showed up, though. I pulled away slightly, trying to explain the situation, but he…" She paused, sighing. "Well…let's just say he didn't take it as well as I would have liked. It's all over."

Lupin smiled sadly.

"Not as string-less as you had hoped after all, huh?"

She looked up at him, her normally-hazel eyes a darker chocolate to match her mood.

"I'm so sorry, Remus," she whispered. "I never thought I would end up hurting everyone. I actually thought placing some emotional distance would _avoid_ causing pain, but…" She trailed off, looking away. "I've lost Oliver. I don't want to lose you too."

"Oh 'Mione," he said, coming to her side. "You won't lose me. I went into this with my eyes open. I knew you didn't want anything serious and you're so young…you _shouldn't_ want it right now. I love you, darling, with all my heart, but I'm not _in_ love with you."

She looked up at him again.

"Really?"

"Yes, love."

She sighed, looking back down at her dress as she picked an imaginary piece of lint from it.

"I'm marrying your best friend in a month," she finally said.

"I know," he replied.

"That's less time than we thought."

"I know."

"And with all that needs to get done, we don't have time to…"

"I know."

They looked at each other for a moment before launching themselves at each other, their lips meeting in a passionate, searing kiss.

Falling against the pillows, they took their time undressing each other; memorizing for one final time that which they already knew so well. She traced every scar on his broad chest, kissing every faded battle wound. His hands, large and comforting, molded against the contours of her body, pressing urgently yet gently against her soft curves.

Their love-making was quick, frantic, leaving them panting as they moved together in a frenzy of desire, heat, and need. She clung to him, her nails sliding down his sweat-soaked back as she quietly moaned his name, the ache within her exploding as she came hard under his strong body. He followed soon after, his gasps muffled in her hair as he breathed her in one last time.

Collapsing in a mess of tangled limbs, they held each other just a little tighter for just a little longer, letting their hearts calm as their bodies slowly descended from the familiar high of their sex.

"Thank you," was all she said as they slid under the cool linen sheets.

He held her as she fell asleep, allowing himself to watch her like he had done dozens of times before. He watched as the flush of her cheeks slowly faded to the peach-tinted ivory of her skin, her breasts rising and falling as he breaths deepened. He let his hand gently brush an errant curl from her face, letting his knuckles enjoy for one final moment the softness of her skin.

He hadn't lied. He wasn't in love with this witch. But as he lay back he allowed himself a moment to think about another time or alternate universe, where he was younger and untainted and she was still innocent to the world's evils and protected.

"Good-bye, Hermione," he whispered, knowing that despite their continued friendship, this was the last time he would see her like this.

Once she knew he was asleep, Hermione opened her eyes and looked at her now-former lover.

"Good-bye," she breathed.


	6. Chapter 6: A Stairwell Conversation

**A/N:** Many apologies for the delay...I've been trying to finish some things while embroiled in a job search ('cuz fan fic don't pay the bills) so I've been a _little_ busy.

A Warning: Anyone who hates dropped plot points is going to HATE this chapter. Read the 2nd A/N at the bottom for clarification. I know the flames will come (please don't hate...just appreciate, lol) but know that I PROMISE I will not let you down.

Please READ and REVIEW!

**Chapter Six: A Stairwell Conversation**

Hermione awoke a few hours later with Lupin's arms coiled tightly around her bare body. She allowed herself a moment to enjoy the intimacy that had only existed between them in those last few months before Voldemort's second disappearance. It had been so long since she had shared a bed with him for any reason other than sex. She usually left the room soon after, unless they were preparing for another round. It was a habit she developed soon after she realized that he wanted to be a bit more than just an occasional lover.

Though his body was warm and his bed comfortable, Hermione knew she needed to leave before her fragile resolve was fractured by a gentle glance from his warm eyes. She didn't love Lupin and she was fairly certain that he no longer loved her – at least, not the way he used to – but with her looming marriage on the horizon, much closer than she ever thought it would be, she was feeling strangely alone, and that made her vulnerable. A loveless, sexless marriage was hardly her ideal future.

Sliding out of Lupin's arms, she slipped into her underwear quickly before grabbing up the rest of her scattered clothes. Not bothering to put them on, she instead wrapped her dress around her chest to avoid any embarrassing stairwell confrontations and with a final smile at the sleeping werewolf, she slipped out of the room.

Creeping down the stairs to her own bedroom, her hand was almost on the doorknob when Sirius's words of warning from earlier in the evening drifted through her mind. She gave a silent groan, looking angrily at the unassuming wooden door as if it had betrayed her by admitting the merry prankster into the room. She knew she should have considered Ginny's suggestion of warding the room with privacy charms to maintain a small amount of feminine mystique in the decidedly testosterone-ridden household.

"Don't worry," a voice said from behind her. "I took the charms down."

Hermione turned to look at the topless, raven-haired Marauder skeptically.

"This isn't a ruse to get me to walk into something with a false sense of security only to be ambushed, is it?"

He chuckled.

"You looked very upset when you came home and Harry told me you were breaking the news to Wood so I assumed it went badly and I know the last thing you needed when going back into your room was a childish prank."

Her brow furrowed slightly.

"That was awfully considerate of you, Sirius."

He shrugged.

"To tell you the truth, I wasn't particularly happy with it. It was too quick. It eased my vindictive side but it wasn't particularly well thought-out. Plus, my damn noble intentions took away the most important part of any prank." When she arched her eyebrow in expectation, he smirked. "The element of _surprise_, kitten. You already knew where the prank was, and you had time to adequately prepare yourself against it. Where's the fun in that?"

"So…are you still planning on doing something to my room?" she asked warily, mentally tabulating a list of charms she was going to set up around her room in the morning.

"No. Your room is not _nearly_ public enough."

She sighed.

"What's the likelihood you could just forget about this little war of the witless we've entered?"

He smirked again.

"What's the likelihood that you'll start trading sexual favors for government secrets?"

Sighing again, Hermione tried to will her brain to remain frustrated by his immaturity but found it increasingly difficult as she felt her eyes trail over him. Freedom and money had certainly served him well. His tall, athletic frame had filled out and his muscles were subtly defined in a simple, masculine way. She wrenched her eyes from the thin trail of black hair that led from his navel down below his black silk pajama pants, unconsciously licking her lips appreciatively. Glancing up at his handsomely chiseled face, she was slightly relieved that he was too busy admiring _her_ half-naked body to notice her unabashed gaze.

"Well well well," he teased, his eyes tracing her curves. "Little Miss Hermione Granger has _definitely_ grown up from that bookish little know-it-all we all knew and…is that a tattoo?"

In two steps he was standing in front of her and he slowly brushed away the part of her dress that was covering her waist. There, next to her belly button, was indeed a tattoo. It was small, very classy, and depicted an ancient rune he didn't recognize set inside a triangle. Around each side of the triangle were initials – HJP, RBW, and HJG. He wondered why he had never noticed it before. She definitely flounced around the house in shirts short enough to display it.

"What does it mean?" he asked, absently tracing the ink with his fingers and relishing the smooth texture of her skin. He didn't notice the shiver that ran over her body at the feel of his fingers, nor the look of hunger that sparked in her eyes under his touch.

"It's the ancient rune for kinship, set inside a triangle that represents the three of us. Hence, our initials." She traced the tattoo fondly with her own fingers, feeling warm in the knowledge that she and her 'brothers' were linked by it. "Harry and Ron have it too. Ron has his on his ankle and Harry took a leaf from _your_ book and put his on his chest."

Sirius frowned, his palm still sitting on her stomach.

"I've never seen this before. On _any_ of you. When did you get it?"

"Four years ago. After that last battle. Ron and I panicked when Harry disappeared. And when he showed up several hours later, bleeding and exhausted and telling us Voldemort got away…well…we didn't want that situation to happen again. So, once we had healed from out battle wounds, we went and got these done. They're charmed so we can feel it if any of us are in danger. It's come in handy a couple of times."

"Wow," Sirius said, seeming somewhat impressed, though he continued to frown. "But that still doesn't explain why I haven't seen it before."

She chuckled.

"Isn't it obvious? We glamour them most of the time."

"But…why?"

She arched an eyebrow.

"Um…have you _met_ Mrs. Weasley? Do you _know_ what she's capable of?"

"Well…yes…but you're all of age. What's she going to do, hex them off you?"

"No, but I don't know if you've been on the receiving end of a full-force admonishment by Mrs. Weasley, but I assure you that none of us have the time or the energy to put up with it. Plus, we've all heard the lecture a million times before because inevitably her strongest argument will surround you and how you are not an appropriate role model for three gifted young wizards. I think we could all say it by heart now, honestly."

"Wait. Molly lectures about me? Whatever for?"

"She doesn't want either Harry _or_ Ron to end up like you."

"And what's wrong with me, may I ask?" he asked hotly.

She continued to arch her eyebrow.

"Let's think about this for a moment, shall we? Why would the traditional, family-oriented Molly Weasley discourage her son and her daughter's fiancé from behaving like a reckless, tattooed, devil-may-care middle-aged playboy with a Peter Pan complex?"

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I am _not_ middle-aged, thank you very much. I'll have you know I am a _young_ forty-two."

She rolled her eyes.

"_So_ sorry. You're a reckless, tattooed, devil-may-care _slightly older_ playboy with a Peter Pan complex."

He grinned.

"You forgot 'dead sexy' and 'roguishly handsome,'" he said.

"No…but I _did_ forget 'delusions of grandeur,' now that I think about it," she quipped.

He poked her playfully.

"Cheeky little witch."

She smirked.

"Indeed, Mr. Black." Then she sighed. "So…what brings you out of bed to lurk in stairwells at two o'clock in the morning?"

"Nightmares," he said. "Couldn't sleep."

She frowned slightly.

"Does this happen often?"

He shrugged.

"They come and they go. They're worse during periods of great stress."

She chuckled.

"We're covert operators in an underground rebellion waging a silent war against the darkest wizard of all time being forced into a marriage of convenience by a puppet government, prior to which you were trapped in a limbo of darkness which undoubtedly gave you unprecedented time to think on the twelve years of unlawful imprisonment you endured followed by two years of unmitigated fear for your life. Tell me, Sirius, when exactly was the last time you experienced a period that _wasn't_ fraught with great stress?"

He smiled slightly.

"Life wasn't too bad prior to 1981," he said softly.

She stood, watching his tortured face in sympathetic silence before placing her hand on his arm.

"In our way, we all miss them, Sirius," she said sagely, and he knew she meant the two faces of those who haunted his dreams. "Even those of us who never met them."

He nodded.

"I just…I sometimes wonder what life would be like if they were here, with us."

"I have no doubt that the Marauders would be wreaking a havoc on the dark forces the likes of which even the Weasley twins couldn't imagine."

Sirius grinned.

"Perhaps Moony and I should make Fred and George honorary Marauders. They certainly have the spirit."

Hermione chuckled.

"I can see Mrs. Weasley being tickled pink by that idea." Then she sighed. "Well, I should get to bed. I have no doubt that this evening's events will have created a shitstorm of hell for tomorrow."

Sirius nodded, running his hand down her arm and squeezing her hand gently.

"Wood will get over it, kitten. I have no doubt it will take time, but he will."

She smiled.

"I hope so. Unfortunately, that's not the worse of it," she said before quickly telling him about the Malfoys' inconvenient appearance.

His brow furrowed.

"It's not a good sign that they're following you, Hermione. You need to be very careful."

"My intuition tells me that I'm not the only one who needs to be careful, Sirius. You need to be _very_ discreet from now on."

He sighed.

"I know. I've heard it from Remus and Kingsley already." Then he smiled. "Well, your room is sufficiently prank-free. Get some sleep, yeah?"

"Alright. Still no chance of a truce?"

He grinned, simply shaking his head so his shaggy hair flopped adorably around his face.

"Not a snowball's chance in hell, sweetheart."

She sighed again.

"You are incorrigible, Sirius Black."

"Indeed I am, my future wife," he replied and with a final wink, he left her contemplating all the potentially embarrassing situations he could put her through. Shuddering at the thought, she went into her room to catch a few hours of restless sleep before she dealt with the next day's inevitable drama.

She already knew it was going to be a bad week.

* * *

**SECOND A/N:** Hopefully if you're reading this, you've already read the chapter and I'm not revealing anything by saying that Sirius's actions of taking down his 'epic' prank on her room isn't a total and utter surprise. To be honest, I hadn't ever planned on him actually going through with it, for 2 reasons. 1.) In my head, Sirius isn't quite so callous and insensitive to continue with a prank when he knows Hermione is hurting and 2.) I realized that doing something to Hermione's room really wouldn't have the embarrassment power that the systematic desintigration of Sirius's pride in the lobby of the Ministry of Magic had on him. BUT HAVE NO FEAR! I do have a prank planned, and it will be equally as epic and totally Sirius Black. So please don't hate me when you press that review button!


	7. Chapter 7: A Slight Complication

**A/N:** ARGH! OK...the rampant plot bunnies have spoken and the direction has changed (again). I realized I promised waaaaayyyy back in Chapter Three that there would be an outlining of the more delicate points of the Marriage Law...a fact that I proceeded to forget for three more chapters. ANYWAY...here it is. And you should expect some pretty quick updates for the next three chapters, as I have written them already and will be posting them in fairly rapid succession.

AS ALWAYS...READ AND REVIEW! I WILL WITHHOLD UPDATES IF YOU DON'T! (Nah...just kidding...or am I? Dare to test me?)

**Chapter Seven: A Slight Complication**

"Hermione, may I please speak with you for a moment?"

Hermione had barely walked into the office the next morning when Mr. Weasley's voice called to her. Dreading the inevitable, she handed her briefcase and outer robe to her awaiting assistant and followed her boss to his large corner office. Upon entering, she saw both Kingsley and Lupin there. Closing the door, Mr. Weasley warded it before turning to the confused witch.

"Remus said that you had dinner with Oliver Wood last night," Mr. Weasley said softly.

Hermione sighed.

"We had drinks, but nothing happened. I was in and out in under an hour."

"Yes, but Lucius Malfoy was there too, wasn't he?"

"Yes, but…"

"'Mione," Lupin said. "Did you get a chance to look at the amendments to the Marriage Law yet?"

"No. Sirius has all that paperwork. I was going to look tonight."

Kingsley sighed.

"I think you should look now," he said, handing her a thick file. "I've owled Sirius. He needs to be here for this too."

As they waited, Hermione opened the file. She tried to ignore their worried gazes as she flipped through the pages to the one marked 'Amendments.' Leaning forward, she started to read.

The first few dozen pertained to pureblood witches, so she ignored those for the time being, making a mental note to read them more closely when she had more time. She knew Ginny wouldn't, and at least one of the people in her friends' upcoming marriage needed to be prepared for whatever additional obstacles the Ministry had devised. She paused, however, when she got to the section involving Muggleborns, and started to pay closer attention. As she read, she felt her face get hotter and hotter as rage started to build.

"This is ridiculous!" she shouted a few minutes later, causing all three men to jump at the sudden disruption of the silence. "They can't seriously think they'll get away with this."

"They already have, darling," Lupin said with a quiet smile.

"Yes, but…_'dissolution of assets collected by the witch previous to marriage'_? _'Written permission by the spouse previous to any international travel'_? I'm a junior associate for this department! Half of my job description involves diplomatic travel!"

"Hermione, we _know_," Mr. Weasley said. "But that's not the worst of it."

"What do you mean, that's not the worst of it? I no longer have control of my own money? I can't _travel_ without permission? You might has well dress me in a burka and place me under house arrest!"

"Yes, but…"

There was a knock at the door and Mr. Weasley quickly took down the wards before Kingsley ushered a sleep-deprived Sirius into the room.

"What's this all about, Arthur? Why couldn't this have waited until sometime after noon?" he asked grumpily, collapsing into the chair next to Hermione before anyone could say anything.

"There's time to sleep when you're dead, Padfoot," Lupin joked half-heartedly.

"Been dead. Not much time for sleep then either," the animagus retorted.

Kingsley sighed.

"Did you bring the documents I asked for, Sirius?" he asked.

"Yeah yeah," Sirius replied, tossing the documents he and Hermione had received from the clerk the day before on the desk.

Mr. Weasley sifted through them, finally pulling out a piece of parchment and scanning it before sighing in resignation. He handed it to Kingsley, who read it over as well.

"Just as I suspected," he said before handing it to Hermione. "They didn't see the need to add this to everyone's copy of the document, but unfortunately it applies to you two."

Hermione started to read it, but choked.

"No," she said, looking at the men. "No, this cannot be happening."

"What?" Sirius asked, reaching for the parchment. Hermione pulled it away from him, reading aloud.

"'_In the event of multiple petitions of a Muggleborn candidate and/or credible suspicion of a fake petition, the following additional amendments will apply:_

_1.) During the marriage ceremony, an additional fidelity charm will be cast over the couple to ensure the paternity of any and all off-spring, and a mandatory consummation of the marriage __must__ take place within 24 hours of the binding._

_2.) Monthly pregnancy examinations must be administered by a trained St. Mungo's medi-witch or wizard after a 12 month period to ensure compliance with the previously-stated procreation laws._

_3.) __Any detection of contraceptive potions or spells following the initial 12 month period will be suspect and will result in a Ministry investigation._

_4.) The Ministry reserves the right to schedule regular inspections of the couple's living situation up through the first 12 months of marriage._

_5.) __Removal of the wedding band by either party will result in an immediate Ministry investigation of the marriage._

_6.) Any credible suspicion of fraud presented to the Ministry will be investigated by the Department of Magical Marriages._

_7.) In the event that the marriage is found to be fraudulent in nature, the Ministry reserves the right to terminate said marriage and will place the witch with a petitioner of their choosing.'_"

Hermione finished reading and slammed the parchment on the desk.

"This is an outrage!" she cried. "Not only am I to be disenfranchised simply based on my birth and my sex, but my _marriage_ is now going to be examined under the lens of a corrupt bureaucracy? How the hell did we let this happen?"

"'Mione, sweetheart," Lupin said, taking her hand. "Please…calm down."

"And _fidelity_ charms?" she shouted, jerking her hand away. "Are they _insane_?"

"Yeah, not so much a fan of that one myself," Sirius mumbled, picking up the parchment and re-reading it to himself.

"_And_," she added, standing up and starting to pace. "We have to consummate the marriage? That is out of the question!"

"OK, the attack on my ego notwithstanding, that one's overreaching just a bit," Sirius said, looking at the men. "I mean…no one said anything about us having to sleep together."

"Exactly!" Hermione said, glad that she and her husband-to-be were one the same page. "This is absolutely…"

"Stop," Kingsley said firmly, effectively halting the next wave of complaints from the frustrated pair. "That's enough. You two honestly don't have a choice. The only possible way to escape this is to smuggle Hermione out of the country and to be quite honest, we cannot afford to lose her. She is key to the Order."

"I hate to sound like Dumbledore, Hermione, but this really is for the greater good," Mr. Weasley said apologetically.

"Oh, well in _that_ case, by all means!" she said sarcastically. "If it's for the _greater good_…"

"'Mione, please see reason," Lupin asked pleadingly. "This is _Sirius_ we're talking about. You will have more freedom than many others in your situation. And in terms of the…well…the consummation…"

"Hereby dubbed the literal 'fucking clause,'" she muttered mutinously, to which Lupin chuckled.

"It's not like either of you are going into this without experience in that area," he finished.

"Yeah," Sirius said, smirking in spite of himself. "Don't worry, kitten. I'll be gentle."

"Not helping, Sirius," Mr. Weasley said warningly as both Hermione and Lupin shot him glares.

Kingsley ran his hand over his face in frustration.

"Sirius, Hermione," he said. "The choice is yours. But please…there are much larger issues at stake here."

"The greater bloody good, I know," Hermione mumbled, sitting down again. "Good God, as if this week could possibly get any worse."

"Unfortunately, it can," Mr. Weasley said, sitting behind his desk. "You see…I just got word that I need to suspend any and all of your diplomatic assignments until after your wedding."

"What?" she shouted. "But I have the conference in Venice next week!"

"I know, dear, and I'm sorry," he said. "But the Ministry received a tip to investigate your marriage to Sirius and they banned you from leaving the country until the marriage ceremony is complete."

"But who would have…oh. Lucius," she said and a hate the likes of which she had never felt bubbled within her.

"He seemed to think your rendezvous with Oliver was inappropriate, a thought with which I reluctantly agree," Kingsley said, ignoring her murderous look. "You had to know that something like this would happen, Hermione. You had Draco's petition and the petitions of two high-level Death Eaters submitted before you and Sirius were even seen by the department. You're in _very_ dangerous water. Voldemort would consider it a personal triumph to have you marry one of his followers."

"So…what do we do? It's not good to have an inquiry thrown at us before we're even married."

"I've managed to convince the head of the department that Wood is an ex-boyfriend with whom you needed closure," Mr. Weasley said. "Whether fortunately or unfortunately she doesn't have a very high opinion of you and chalked your behavior up to…and forgive me for repeating it…'normal behavior of a Mudblood whore.'"

Hermione's nostrils flared.

"And to whom do I owe this shining epithet?" she growled.

"Selena Selwyn. She's a pureblood witch. Her husband has ties to Lord Voldemort."

Hermione cringed. She had never met the woman, but she did remember a rather unpleasant confrontation with her husband. It had been at the final battle before Lord Voldemort went back into hiding. Hermione, bloodied and bruised from a brief run-in with Alecto Carrow, had been caught at the edge of the Hogwarts cliff-face by the pureblood maniac. They had dueled and Hermione had felled him with a well-placed stunner that had sent him careening into the rocky gorge below. By some miracle he had survived, but if his wife was anything like her husband, she would be vengeful and unforgiving.

"In order to draw away suspicion, what do we need to do?" Sirius asked.

"You need to start acting like a happily-engaged couple," Kingsley said firmly. "You need to start planning the wedding and my suggestion is not to spare any expense. I would also get an engagement ring."

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes.

"I can't afford this, especially since my bank account will no longer be my own once we're married."

Sirius brushed the comment off.

"I have more gold than I know what to do with, kitten, so consider everything on me."

"Sirius, I couldn't…"

"Of course you could! Consider it a favor. Do you know how infuriated my parents would be if they knew I was spending the family fortune on a Muggleborn? Christ, I'd do it even if we _weren't_ marrying against our will. Anything to fan those flames of discontent as they're rotting in Hell."

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"I'm glad our impending nuptials are good for something," she said dryly. Then she sighed. "Alright. Engagement ring, wedding plans…anything else?"

"Er…" Lupin fidgeted uncomfortably. "You'll need to find a place to live."

Sirius arched an eyebrow.

"I'm sorry…we need a what?"

"You two need to find a place to live. Outside Grimmauld Place."

"I suppose it wouldn't do any good to remind you that Grimmauld Place is, in fact, _my_ house and that Hermione and I have been living there quite comfortably for quite some time now?"

"Yes, but if you are going to be subjected to Ministry inspections every month for a year, you cannot live in Grimmauld Place. The amount of top-secret information that goes through that house is too great. So unless you kick _us_ out, leaving us without a headquarters, this is the only choice."

Hermione wanted to knock her head against the wall to wake up from the nightmare she was living in. Sirius also looked none too pleased. For the first time in her life, she wished she had been born a man. Then neither she nor Sirius would have to deal with half the amount of bullshit the arcane, anti-feminist magical society was known to dish out.

"If there aren't any other surprises you'd like to spring on us," Hermione finally said. "I believe my fiancé and I have some things to talk about. Would you excuse us?"

The three men nodded and Lupin walked with the sullen couple to the door. Tentatively, he took Hermione's hand, looking into her angry hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I promise, if there was any other way…"

"Don't," she whispered, removing her hand and shaking her head. "Don't, please. It's hard enough already."

Taking a deep breath, she looked up at Sirius and took his hand. He barely glanced at it as he closed his fingers around hers. Neither of them were particular fans of public displays of affection, but both knew they had parts to play now. So, pasting on silly grins, they exited hand-in-hand and headed through the department to Hermione's office.

Once she closed the door, Hermione dropped his hand and warded the office with privacy charms. Sighing, she walked over to her desk.

"Alright," she said, sitting and motioning for him to sit as well. "Let's talk wedding."

Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

"_You're_ the bride," Sirius finally said. "What do _you_ want?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I _want_ to remain single."

"Yes, well, that's just not possible anymore, kitten. Plan B?"

She sighed.

"Well, I suppose it'll have to be big, for appearance sake."

"What about…" Sirius swallowed hard. "What about your parents? What will _they_ want?"

Her eyes widened.

"Oh shit. My parents. Christ…I forgot about them." She shook her head. "I have no idea how to explain this to them."

"Do you…" He hesitated. "Um…do you think we should talk to them together?"

She shook her head.

"Not at first. My father owns a gun."

He chuckled.

"Yes, perhaps springing your much older ex-con fiancé on them with firearms present might not be the best idea."

She smiled for the first time all morning.

"They'll want to meet you. Maybe I should organize a dinner for the four of us once I've told them. Someplace neutral, so my dad doesn't get any ideas should things go south."

Sirius cringed.

"I've never been the 'meet the parents' type of guy. That was more Remus's area. Though…with his lycanthropy he didn't get a lot of offers."

"No. I suppose not," she said quietly.

Sirius leaned forward.

"Are you…are you two alright? It seemed a bit tense back there. After the whole blow-up, I mean."

She shrugged.

"We said good-bye last night. It's gonna be a bit awkward for awhile."

He frowned.

"Why did you say good-bye last night? We have a whole month…"

"I would rather not draw it out," she interrupted. "I may be a Mudblood whore, but I'm not going to hurt Remus any more than I have to."

Sirius looked slightly stunned by her harsh self-deprecating comment.

"You're not a Mudblood whore, and quite frankly, I don't ever want to hear that word coming from your lips again," he said firmly. "Just the fact that you care enough about Remus to stop things before life gets more complicated proves that you're not what Selena Selwyn thinks you are."

She smiled slightly.

"Be careful, Sirius, or I might start to think you care about me," she teased. Then she shook her head. "Alright, I have to figure out this whole mess with my parents. Should I leave you to your own devices with the engagement ring?"

"I hardly trust myself. Perhaps I should take Harry or Ron with me."

She arched her eyebrow.

"You want to take your godson and my ex-boyfriend _jewelry_ shopping?"

"Ginny then?"

"Much better." Then she turned to her paperwork. "Well, I have to finish my research for the Venice trip so I can give it to someone infinitely less qualified."

"I'm sorry they took the conference away from you."

"It wasn't so much the conference as it was going to Venice again. I went with my parents when I was little because they had a dental convention and I've always wanted to go back." She sighed. "C'est la vie, no?"(1)

"Oui, mon cher. C'est la manière du monde,"(2) he replied, a small, private smile gracing his face as an idea came to him. He stood, stretching. "Sur ce, je vous laisse à votre travail." (3)

She laughed.

"Consider me duly impressed. Oh, and Sirius?" He turned back to her. "Don't spend _too_ much on that ring."

He smirked.

"I promise nothing, kitten," he said before walking out the door.

* * *

***ADDED July 5th, 2010***

**Okay, seriously people? Do I REALLY have to add this at the bottom? Jesus...**

**YES - I KNOW VENICE IS IN ITALY! I'm not a complete moron.**

**YES - I KNOW THEY DON'T SPEAK FRENCH IN ITALY! Again, I'm not a complete and utter idiot.**

**The reason why they speak in French is because Hermione says 'C'est la vie' which is a commonly-used FRENCH saying, which Sirius expands upon to show of his linguistic skills.  
**

***deep breath* While I'm sure a lot of you are wondering why it's in there, it basically just sets up the fact that Sirius is very good with languages, which will be revisited briefly in future chapters.**

***END July 5th, 2010 RANT*  
**

**I apologize for my horrible French. I haven't taken it in years. Here are the [supposed] translations:**

**(1) That's life**

**(2) Yes, my dear. That's the way of the world.**

**(3) With that, I'll leave you to your work.  
**

**I know...so very very sophisticated, lol. Now please, read and review  
**


	8. Chapter 8: A Bittersweet Prank

**A/N:** So I realized while writing this that I would never be a good Marauder, as my prank started to sound stupid the more I thought about it. But, as I promised, here is what _I_ would consider a pretty good prank, as well as some enlightening aftermath that does, I promise, pertain to the story.

ENJOY AND READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!

**Chapter Eight: A Bittersweet Prank**

The rest of the week was equally as hectic as it had started. Someone had leaked the upcoming marriage to the _Daily Prophet_ and both Sirius and Hermione had been fielding eager owls from Rita Skeeter, badgering them into an exclusive interview for her _Me, Myself & I_ column. Meanwhile, the society pages of _Witch Weekly_ were continuously abuzz with rumors about the couple, describing their epic romance as one to rival the love of Helena Ravenclaw and her ever-repentant Baron.

Hermione hoped the end of her relationship with Sirius would come to a more amicable closure than a muder-suicide.

Needless to say, she had never been quite so happy to see the Friday morning light peek through her window, though she knew the day was going to be equally as taxing before she got to her much-sought-after weekend. She and Sirius were having dinner with her parents that evening and from the difficult conversation she had had with them earlier that week involving the situation, she knew dinner would be an interesting event.

"Well, good morning, princess," Sirius said with a grin when Hermione walked into the kitchen, her head buried in a file as she put some last minute touches to the presentation she was going to give that morning on health care legislation as it pertained to non-magical beings. She looked up, startled his presence.

"Good morning, Sirius," she said, walking over to the stove and stealing the toast that a sleepy-looking Harry had just buttered. She smiled angelically at him as he glared at her, kissing his cheek.

"Good morning, Harry."

"You're lucky I love you," he mumbled, waving his wand as another piece of break flew to the oven.

She grinned and walked to the table, holding the toast between her teeth as she shuffled her notes. Sirius watched her, twirling his wand casually between his fingers.

"Big night tonight," he said finally as he watched her jot down something.

"Yes," she said absently, brushing the crumbs from her robes. "Are you ready for dinner?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied.

"Oh yeah," Harry said, grinning at his godfather as he sat with his newly-acquired piece of toast. "You're meeting the Grangers tonight, aren't you?"

"That I am, my dear boy. Any thoughts?"

Harry chuckled.

"Speak as little as possible."

Hermione laughed as Sirius looked confused.

"Ron was so nervous that he started babbling like an idiot," she explained. "My parents knew the entire history of the Chudley Cannons before we even reached the entrée."

"They thought he was mental," Harry said, smiling as he remembered the look of horror on Ron's face when Hermione relayed the story to Harry when they got back from the dinner. "After all, Hermione never really mentioned quidditch to them so they had no idea what Ron was talking about."

"Remus wasn't much better," Hermione said. "He babbled on about Muggle dentistry because he had spent so much time researching it that he didn't know anything else to talk about. Granted, he wasn't really trying to impress them because I didn't introduce him as my boyfriend like I did with Ron."

Sirius chuckled.

"I have a feeling your dad will have more important things to ask me tonight. I suppose the idea of a man only five years his junior marrying his only child might be enough of a discussion topic."

Harry laughed.

After a few minutes of surveying Sirius briefly, Hermione cleared her throat.

"So," she said, an edge of warning to her tone. "Did you just get in? Why are you up so early?"

"Do I need a reason?"

"Yes," both Hermione and Harry replied.

He laughed.

"Well, if it pleases Your Highness, I was _planning_ on asking Harry to plan my stag do, as I will be planning his."

Hermione missed Harry's arched eyebrow as she gave her fiancé a withering look.

"A stag night? Really? This is a sham marriage, Sirius. You can get drunk and shag slutty wenches any night and I won't care."

"Nope. Fidelity charms, kitten. Couldn't even if I wanted to," he reminded. "Plus, don't tell me you don't want a hen party."

"I have no intention of having a hen party."

"The hell you won't," a voice said and the trio turned to see Ginny saunter in. "Tonks and I are already arranging one for you."

"You will do no such thing," Hermione said sharply.

"Too late," Ginny said cheerfully, plopping down next to Harry and stealing his unfinished toast.

"For the love of Merlin, woman, make your own damn breakfast!" he shouted, grabbing his food back protectively.

Hermione and Sirius laughed at the redhead's indignant look.

"Well, I'm off," Hermione said, packing up her files. "Be ready by seven, Sirius. We have reservations for seven-thirty."

"Aye aye, cap'n," he said in mock salute.

She rolled her eyes before turning to Ginny.

"No hen party," she said firmly.

"Not a choice," Ginny replied, equally resolved. "Plus, if _Mum_ is planning your engagement party, _I_ get to plan your hen party."

"The engagement party is necessary to keep up appearances, Ginny."

"So is a hen party."

Harry gave Hermione a look that told her it was useless to argue, so she sighed and turned back to an amused Sirius.

"Sirius…"

"I know, I know. Seven _sharp_."

She chuckled.

"I was honestly just going to say 'Have a good day' but it's nice to see you're paying attention."

With a final smile and wave, Hermione left.

"Alright, Sirius, spill," Harry said as Ginny stood to make herself toast. "Why are you _really_ up at 7:30 in the morning?"

"Harry, really. You wound me," Sirius said, the mischievous gleam in his eye belying the innocent look on his face.

"Don't pull that with me," Harry said with a grin. "I know for a fact you already asked the twins to organize your stag night, so you're not awake to ask _me_ to do it. Confess."

Sirius grinned.

"Let's just say that revenge is sweet."

Ginny groaned.

"You're not still planning a stupid prank to get Hermione back for what she did to you at the Ministry, are you? Because from what I heard, Sirius, you completely deserved it."

"Be that as it may, _no one_ pranks me and gets away with it."

Harry chuckled.

"I don't know, Sirius. Hermione's prank was pretty good. You'd be hard-pressed to do better."

"Oh ye of little faith. I'll have you know that my prank is _epic_ by comparison."

"Epic like flipping all of the furniture in her bedroom upside down and charming the ceiling to snow upon entrance?" Ginny asked dryly.

"Yeah, you know, that wasn't as creative as I would have liked it to be, but it didn't happen so no harm done."

Harry shook his head.

"I think the beauty in Hermione's prank was that it was sudden, it was public, and it hit upon your weaknesses, which are public humiliation and subservience. Hermione has very few weaknesses and very little fazes her."

"Well, she's only human, and I'm _sure_ my prank will cause the appropriate amount of humiliation."

As he said this, a blur of silver and white light swept down from the chimney and the patronus of an otter landed next to Sirius.

"_Nice try, Sirius, but did you really think I bought the idea that you were up early just to talk to Harry? I took a closer look at my presentation graphs and managed to remove the pornographic images from them. So any hope of embarrassing me in front of a dozen foreign dignitaries with something so juvenile is out of the question now. Really, for all the hype, I'm quite disappointed. I expected more from you."_

When the otter had delivered its message, it faded away, leaving Harry and Ginny laughing at the look of frustration on Sirius's face.

"So _that_ was your epic prank?" Ginny said with a smirk. "Hardly imaginative, Sirius."

"It's hard when she's so bloody smart!" Sirius complained, sitting back in his chair in a sulk.

"Hermione is too clever for silly charms and potions, Sirius. She's like you. The prank has to be grand and unexpected. You need to draw attention to her. You know she hates the spotlight," Harry said.

This aspect was true. Hermione hated attention. Remus had told Sirius that right after Voldemort's disappearance, Hermione shied away from the probing questions of the eager wizarding world, choosing instead to go to Australia to find her parents. This had left Harry and Ron to clean up the messy aftermath, but it was certainly a testament to how much the boys loved her that they did it without complaint.

"How do I draw attention to her without drawing attention to _me_?" Sirius asked.

"You can't," Ginny replied plainly. "But I suppose your pride _is_ more important than pranking Hermione."

Harry laughed.

"Too true. Plus, while she doesn't like attention, she's not entirely embarrassed by it. It depends upon the situation. As I said before, she has very few weaknesses. So far as I know, there are only two. She hates to fly, and the only thing I know of that has affected her enough to produce a strong reaction was when Ron drunkenly serenaded her in the Great Hall our seventh year at Hogwarts."

Ginny punched him hard in the arm as Sirius started to grin.

"Was she mortified?"

"No," Ginny said, still glaring at Harry. "She was livid. She couldn't have left the hall fast enough. I've never seen her so upset. She didn't speak to him for a month afterwards."

Harry smirked.

"I never found out whether it was Ron's song choice or his actual singing that made her run, but he was perplexed for several days."

"What song did he choose?"

"_Wind Beneath My Wings_."

Sirius roared, slapping his knee and wiping tears from his eyes.

"I think I would pay good money to see Ron Weasley sing that song again," he said.

"Well, you won't," Ginny said. "And Sirius, if you know what's good for you, you _will not_ sing to her. She will hex your nuts off, and I'm not kidding. I never understood why she hates it so much but I will never forget the look in her eyes when Ron did it so _don't_."

"But…"

"DON'T!" she said, her eyes blazing warningly.

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Ok, ok, no need to get snippy. I'll figure something else out."

"Good. Alright, boys, I have practice so I have to go." Ginny kissed Harry soundly before looking at Sirius. "Don't do anything stupid, please."

She left and Sirius turned to Harry, his eyes glinting mischievously again.

"So…what song do you think I should do?"

Harry frowned.

"But you said…"

"I know what I said. Now, what song?"

Harry regarded him warily for a moment.

"Look, I thought the reaction was priceless at the time, but it just humiliated Ron. And if Ginny says not to, she has good reason. She likes pranks almost as much as the twins."

Sirius brushed the comment aside.

"Hermione's her best friend. Of _course_ she wouldn't want me to prank her."

"Sirius, you're on your own if you're going to go through with this. I trust Ginny's judgment and I wouldn't want to get in the middle of something I don't know about."

"Since when?"

Harry chuckled.

"Since recently. Plus, I happen to love my fiancée and would like to continue having sex with her on a regular basis, so I would prefer not to put that in jeopardy by helping you. But I warn you…this can only end in disaster. It did for Ron. They broke up soon after."

"Well, she's stuck with me, so I have no worries on that front."

Harry shrugged.

"Do what you want, mate, but if I were you, I'd listen to Ginny."

He smiled and stood, banishing his plate to the sink.

"I'm going to get going too. I'll see you later, alright?"

"Yeah. Wish me luck!"

Harry chuckled.

"No. But don't get killed, ok? I'd like to have both you and Hermione around for a little longer, if you don't mind, and if she kills you and then gets tossed into Azkaban for it, I will be very put out."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"You're so dramatic. What could go wrong?"

***

"Astounding work, Hermione. Very well done," Mr. Weasley said proudly to his surrogate daughter as he led her and some of the visiting foreign diplomats down to the Atrium for lunch.

Hermione smiled.

"Thank you. I almost didn't have the graphs for it, thanks to my ever-vengeful fiancé."

Mr. Weasley chuckled.

"I think Sirius might have met his match with you. When Kingsley told me what happened on Monday I almost fell out of my chair."

"Well, let's hope he doesn't do anything drastic..."

"Miss Hermione Granger, it's your lucky day!"

Hermione froze as a magically magnified voice echoed through the Atrium. People turned curiously to stare at her and she could feel the blood pooling to her cheeks. Looking around for her prankster fiancé, she caught sight of a platform set up against the wall. A 12-piece swing band sat there, clad in classic black suits, sitting behind podiums marked with the scrawling initials 'SB'. The band leader, a balding man with a large smile, was gesturing at her.

"In celebration of your anniversary, we have a very special performance for you."

"Anniversary?" Mr. Weasley asked, his brow furrowing before understanding dawned on him and he arched his eyebrow. "Well…this is quite elaborate.

Hermione felt her heart sink into her stomach as a strong fear gripped her. Sirius couldn't have known…no. They wouldn't have told him about…

"_Come fly with me, let's fly, let's fly away…"_

Sirius, very dapper in a black suit and loose skinny tie, appeared from where he had clearly been waiting in the rafters, balanced on a broom above the curious crowd. There were cries of surprise and delight as he grinned, winking at Hermione wickedly before continuing his singing – rather decently, she reluctantly admitted – an old Sinatra standard. His voice was magically magnified and she felt everyone's eyes on her as he continued to sing.

"_If you could use some exotic booze, there's a bar in far Bombay…come fly with me, let's fly let's fly away…"_

"Who is that man?" one of the elder statesmen, his voice heavy with his thick Slavic accent, asked curiously as Sirius sang, dipping lower as he flew through the crowd on his way towards Hermione.

"That," Mr. Weasley said, torn between horror at the look of rage on his young employee's face and amusement at how uncomfortable the attention was making her. "Is Miss Granger's fiancé, Sirius Black."

"_Once I get you up there,"_ Sirius sang, scooping Hermione up onto the broom with him. _"Where the air is rarified…we'll just glide…starry-eyed…Once I get your up there, I'll be holding you so near…You may hear…the angels cheer because we're together…"_

Red with absolute mortification, Hermione clung to him in terror as he shot up to the rafters. He made lazy circles above the smiling crowd, trying his best not to laugh as she shot daggers at him. He placed the best visage of the besotted lover as he sang, his arm tight around her to make sure she didn't cause either of them to fall with her discomfort.

"I am going to _kill_ you once we get down there," she hissed at him during a musical break.

"Payback's a bitch, kitten," he said with a grin.

"_Weather-wise, it's such a lovely day…Just say the word and we'll beat those birds down to Acapulco Bay…"_

As the song ended, Sirius landed them in the large clearing that had formed in the center of the Atrium and he twirled her to him, singing the last few bars with a smile on his face. He took her into a graceful dip at the last note before saying, his voice still magnified:

"Happy Anniversary, baby. Kiss me."

Shaking with pent-up hostility, Hermione continued to glare at him as he continued to smirk. A couple of seconds of silence permeated the air before someone in the crowd shouted _"Kiss him, sweetheart!"_ to which the crowd started chanting _"Kiss him! Kiss him!"_

"C'mon, kitten. You wouldn't want them to think you're so callous and cold-hearted to your doting husband-to-be, would you?" Sirius taunted.

"I'd rather kiss a Blast-Ended Skrewt," she replied, murder in her eyes.

"Suit yourself," he said easily, pulling her up. Magically magnifying his voice again, he turned to address the chanting crowd.

"My _beautiful_ fiancée is moved to speechlessness by my gesture but she _assures_ me that her lack of response will be _more than adequately_ repaid during out wedding night. She says she'll…"

Thinking quickly, Hermione grabbed Sirius's shirt and yanked him down for the most passionate, fiery kiss she could muster with anger in her heart. Pressing her lips to his, she felt him relax and her jaw tensed as she could feel him smirk. Subtly, she ran her hand down his body to his balls, grabbing them firmly and giving a sharp, painful tug. His knees buckled and when she pulled away he doubled over, grasping his knees.

She turned to the wildly-applauding crowd with a well-practiced smile and magically magnified her own voice.

"It seems it is I who has rendered him speechless," she said. "Thank you for your indulgence, ladies and gentlemen."

She was greeted by a few chuckles as everyone returned to their business. Bending down to her grimacing fiancé, she forced his head up to look her in the eyes.

"Don't _ever_ do that again," she said, her voice dangerously soft. "And after that stunt, I assume we are now even."

She offered him a hand to straighten up, but he glared at her. Stretching painfully, she saw his nostrils flare as he looked at her.

"Why do you hate it so much?" he asked, clearly censoring himself against all the things he _wanted_ to say to her. "I know it's embarrassing, but turn-around's fair play."

To his surprise, her eyes softened with a vulnerability he hadn't seen before and she looked away from him.

"It's…something that might be difficult for you to understand," she said softly. "But know that it's not the singing itself so much as what it stands for."

"But…"

"Sirius," she interrupted, looking back at him. "Let it go." She paused before biting her lower lip. "Er…are you OK?"

He sighed.

"When they called you a 'ball-buster,' I didn't think they were being literal." She cracked a smile and he cringed slightly as he took a tentative step forward. "I'm fine. A bit bruised but I'll be alright."

She nodded.

"I'll see you at home."

"OK."

She smiled and started to walk away. Pausing, she turned back and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He gave her a smile and she walked over to Mr. Weasley, leaving him confused.

***

Sirius was sitting in the kitchen, an ice pack in his lap, when both Ron and Lupin walked in. He frowned slightly, glancing at his watch. It was mid-afternoon and neither of them were supposed to be home from work for several more hours.

"Please tell me you didn't do what everyone is telling us you did," Ron said, sitting across from the older man.

"_Especially_ since both Ginny and Harry asked you explicitly not to," Lupin added, leaning against the counter.

Sirius sighed.

"I did."

Ron groaned, leaning his head against the table as Lupin shook his head.

"One day you'll learn to listen, Padfoot."

"How was I to know she would try to rip my nuts off?" Sirius asked hotly.

"Because Ginny _told_ you she would!" Ron cried.

"I didn't think she was _serious_."

"Clearly," Lupin said.

"But why did she react so violently in the first place?" Sirius asked. "Why doesn't she like being sung to? I'm not _that_ bad of a singer."

"It has nothing to do with your singing, Sirius, and for once you need to think beyond yourself with this one," Lupin said firmly.

"Alright, so I embarrassed her! That was the point!"

Ron glanced at Lupin.

"It wasn't the fact that you embarrassed her either, Sirius," he said softly.

"Then what in Merlin's name…"

"Hermione was molested as a child. Did you know that?" Lupin interrupted.

Sirius was stunned.

"What?" he asked.

"He was a neighbor. Her parents did a lot of lecture tours when she was young and when they couldn't take her with them they left her in the care of the couple that lived next door," Lupin explained. "The wife took sleeping pills and while she slept the husband would go in and…" He trailed off, rubbing his face as if to expel the mental image.

"When he was done, he would sing to her to get her to stop crying," Ron finished, seeing the emotion on the werewolf's face. "She can't stand hearing men sing to her now."

"Holy shit," Sirius said quietly. "I had no idea. I thought it was just…well…I didn't know what it was, really. Do Ginny and Harry know? Why didn't they tell me? I would have _never_…"

"They don't know, and they must _never_ know, Sirius," Ron said. "If they knew they would both kill him. You know how reckless Harry can be."

Sirius arched an eyebrow.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?"

"_I_ wanted to kill him when she told me," Ron admitted. "But Hermione made me swear I wouldn't go near him. She made me make an Unbreakable Vow not to."

"Me too," Lupin said. "And the only reason _I_ found out was because we ran into him at a store while visiting her parents in Hampshire."

"Wait a minute," Sirius said. "He's still around? Why isn't he in prison?"

"Didn't hold up in court. Something called the Statute of Limitations. By the time she admitted to her parents what had happened, it was too late," Lupin replied. "Mind you, she stopped it all on her own. Summer between first and second years. Hexed him within an inch of his life."

"But her parents…"

"Once she went to Hogwarts it wasn't really an issue," Ron said. "Not to say that it wasn't an _issue_…her parents were and still are very concerned about what happened back then…but they took her with them when they traveled those two summers, and she was away at school or with us the rest of the time. But she still doesn't like to go home."

"He still lives next door?!"

Lupin sighed.

"He's some hot-shot solicitor. Got the property during his divorce settlement. I think he keeps living there because the bastard likes to see her squirm."

"Merlin's beard," Sirius mumbled, leaning back in his chair. "I had no idea something like that had happened to her. She seems so…put together."

"Unfortunately, that's part of the aftermath," Ron said. "She needs to be in control. All the time. In everything. Although…" He hesitated and Lupin continued.

"It also explains why she's so…sexual," he said, which caused Ron's ears to pink slightly. "And…well…it takes her awhile to relinquish control there, too."

"You'd think she'd hate to be touched at all," Sirius commented. "Especially by older men."

"To be honest, it took _me_ awhile to deal with it after she told me," Lupin said. "I felt so guilty…like I was taking advantage of her vulnerability. But she's dealt with everything remarkably well, considering. She hates to be a victim. She practically screamed at me when I didn't touch her for almost a month."

He shook his head sadly.

"There are still little things that creep up from time to time, though," he added. "She always sleeps with her door locked. She has to leave the room when Molly sings to Victoire. She doesn't like to be touched while she's asleep, unless she falls asleep knowing that you're next to her. She has nightmares sometimes."

"The nightmares are the worst," Ron said darkly. "When we were in school she would wake up crying. But after Dumbledore died…well…I would have preferred to wake up next to her crying than to waking up to her shaking with that dead look in her eyes."

Sirius sat there dumbly, digesting the new information as guilt washed over him. He remembered the emotion in her eyes when he had asked her why she reacted the way she did. Hermione had always been somewhat of an enigma to him, but he hadn't cared enough to really wonder why she was the way she was. She was so mature from such a young age but he supposed after dealing with the sort of hell she had dealt with, he shouldn't have expected her to be any less than an adult before she was supposed to be.

"We should get going," Lupin said, straightening up as Ron stood. "Promise you won't say anything to Harry and Ginny."

"Of course."

"That's a rule you _cannot_ break, Padfoot."

"I know."

Nodding, the three men bid each other good-bye and Sirius watched as the two left, a new-found respect for the troubled young witch he was going to marry.


	9. Chapter 9: A Dinner with the Folks

**A/N:** Apologies for the slight delay...I've been so tired that I didn't have the energy to type this up this week. For future reference in terms of updates (I know I've been abysmal with _The Wolf and Little Red_)...I write everything by hand first. As in, with a pen, on lined paper, the long way. I know, I know, that's SO 20th century, but call me old-fashioned, I enjoy the physical feeling of looking at 10-20 pages of hand-written work and feeling accomplished.

ANYWHO...here's the next chapter! As always, READ and REVIEW...or the big bad fan-fic monster will come and eat your brains!

**Chapter Nine: A Dinner with the Folks**

Sirius stood at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for Hermione to get changed for dinner. He kept pacing, wondering why the meeting with her parents made him so nervous. He had never had to meet a girl's parents before, having spent most of his adult life avoiding commitments that would bring about that type of confrontation. Hermione had told him that the initial discussion hadn't gone well, as her parents had suggested everything from giving up magic to self-imposed exile in the small Australian town she had sent them to. She hadn't told them about the consummation clause or the fidelity charms, which Sirius thought was just as well. That was an aspect he'd rather her parents didn't know.

"I'm glad that, for _once_, you're the one doing the waiting."

Her voice brought him out of his thoughts as he looked up to see her descending the stairs. His breath caught in his throat. She truly was radiant. She wore a gray knit dress that hugged her curves in an understated, classy way. It was sleeveless, but the neck was high and it fell just below her knees. On her feet were a pair of low, pale blue kittens heels, which matched her clutch and sapphire drop earrings. Her curls were swept up in a loose bun and she wore a little make up that gave her deep, smoky eyes and full, red lips.

"Merlin," he said softly. "You look beautiful."

She smiled.

"Thank you. You don't look too bad yourself."

She nodded in silent approval at his Muggle suit pants and pale green Oxford shirt, unbuttoned at the collar.

"I, uh," he said awkwardly, digging into his pocket. "I think now is as good a time as any to give you this."

He handed her a small jewelry box. Opening it, she gasped. A single princess-cut diamond sat in goblin-wrought silver, flanked by two smaller diamonds. It was subtle and elegant, just like her. He had found it earlier that week as Ginny dragged him from store to store. They had found it at a small, quiet jewelers in Godric's Hollow and both Harry and Ron had admitted how perfect it was for her.

"You didn't spend a fortune, did you?" she asked as he slid it onto her left hand.

He chuckled.

"You sure know how to kill the romance, don't you?" She shot him a look and he smiled. "Even though I _have_ a fortune to spend on you, this was a very reasonably priced ring."

She smiled as she watched it magically re-size to her finger.

"Thank you," she said sincerely, kissing him gently on the cheek. "Well…shall we?"

Pulling on their cloaks, they walked out of the house and he held her arm as she apparated them to her parents' doorstep.

She gave his hand a supportive squeeze as she rang the doorbell.

A few seconds later, the door opened and a petite woman with wild curly hair and bright green eyes greeted them. She smiled as she hugged her daughter warmly before surveying Sirius critically. He tried not to shift uncomfortably under her cool gaze.

"You must be Sirius," she said.

He swallowed hard, clearing his throat as he nodded with a nervous smile.

"Yes ma'am," he said, his voice a few pitches higher than normal. "Lovely to meet you. Hermione speaks very highly of you."

"Thank you. Considering the circumstances, I would say it's a bit of a stretch to say I'm happy to meet you, but I suppose that can't be helped," she replied as she stood aside to allow them to enter.

"Mum," Hermione mumbled reproachfully, but said nothing else as she put her and Sirius's cloaks in the coat cupboard.

"You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Granger," Sirius said politely, though not without sincerity. The Grangers were clearly doing well.

"My name is Helen," Hermione's mother corrected. "As you are to be my son-in-law, I suppose you should call me that."

Sirius nodded, not trusting himself to give a verbal response.

"So, Hermione tells me you're from a pureblood wizard family. Tell me, how many generations of inbreeding do you come from?"

"_Mother!_" Hermione said sharply, and Sirius was slightly surprised to see the intimidating older woman shrink back slightly from her daughter.

Then Helen sighed.

"Your father's in the sitting room," she said before turning and walking down the foyer, leaving Sirius and Hermione to follow her.

"I'm sorry," Hermione whispered as they followed. "I should have warned you. My parents heard about all the crap Draco used to give me in school with his pureblood mania. They were anti-monarchist sympathizers to begin with, so you can imagine…"

"Kitten, I think the last thing we should be worried about is your parents political leanings," he replied, stepping aside so she could enter the room in front of him.

"Hello pumpkin," Mr. Granger said warmly to his daughter, who hugged him.

"Hi Daddy."

Stern hazel eyes met Sirius's gray-green and Sirius immediately knew where Hermione learned her soul-penetrating gaze of fire.

"And you must be the man who is marrying my daughter."

The tone was light but the meaning was dark. Sirius felt he might as well have been called the tyrant who was stealing her away into a life of complete and utter misery and servitude.

He swallowed hard again.

"Yes sir," he said, glad his tone stayed at his normal pitch. "Sirius Black. Nice to meet…"

"And how old are you?"

Sirius cringed slightly at the abrupt nature of the man's tone.

"Forty-two, sir."

"Ah. And Hermione's twenty-one, which would make you twice her age."

"Only mathematically," Sirius tried to joke, to which Hermione gave a nervous chuckle but her parents remained emotionless.

"Yes, Hermione said you had a sense of humor," Helen said tonelessly.

"So do you, on a normal occasion," Hermione said hotly, looking accusingly at her parents.

"Sweetheart, does any of this strike you as _normal_?" her father asked.

"Look, I told you already: this is _no one's_ idea situation. You're acting as if Sirius concocted this idiotic law _just_ so he could marry me. _He_ doesn't like this any more than I do."

"That's not to say that I don't care for your daughter, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Sirius added quickly. "I respect her immensely. I owe her my life."

"She mentioned that," Mr. Granger said. "She also said you weren't meant to be there in the first place, putting others' lives in danger in the process. Not a fan of authority, Sirius?"

"I…"

"_Enough!_" Hermione said. "I told you two about this because I thought you would have the decency to be understanding about it. Trust me, it is merely nothing more than a courtesy at this point. You can be a part of this if you want, but no one is forcing you. I was _hoping_ you might come to the wedding. I was even hoping you would agree to give me away, Dad. But if you're going to spend the rest of the evening attacking the character of the one man who is willing to sacrifice his own happiness to help me, then we're going to leave and I won't darken your doorstep again. It's your choice."

Sirius looked from Hermione to her parents and had to stop himself from smiling as he recognized the stubborn glare that sat on her mother's face and the defiant look in her father's eyes. There was no doubt that hard-headedness ran rampant in the Granger family.

Then Helen sighed.

"Alright, alright. Sirius, we're sorry. Please sit."

With a look from Hermione that pleaded with him not to screw up this second chance at a first impression, he tentatively sat next to her on the love seat.

The two men then proceeded to look at each other for several minutes in silence.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Hermione finally said. "Why don't you both just whip them out and get it over with?"

Sirius coughed as he choked back his laughter as her parents gaped at her, horrified.

"Hermione Jane Granger!" Helen cried.

"Well, someone needed to say something, and Dad looked like he was sizing Sirius up."

"Erm…" Sirius interrupted, noting the look in his future father-in-law's eye warned of the possible appearance of the dreaded firearm. "May I suggest that we head to the restaurant?"

"That's an excellent idea, Sirius. Daniel?" Helen said, shooting her husband a warning glare that, once again, Sirius recognized intimately.

In silence the four donned their outerwear and walked to the driveway. Glancing warily at the house next door, Sirius thought he saw the curtain move slightly. Taking a protective step closer to Hermione, he turned his attention to the beautiful cherry red 1960 Aston Martin that sat next to the black BMW they were approaching.

"This is a beautiful car, Mr. Granger," he said, admiring the gleaming chrome and leather interior. He inwardly triumphed as Hermione gave him an approving smile.

"Thank you," the other man said, his cold tone barely concealing the pride he had for the vehicle. "Do you drive, Sirius?"

"Yes, I have a black motor…" Hermione elbowed him and he coughed to hide his grunt of pain. "I…er…used to drive. But now I just use normal…I mean…magical modes of transportation."

"Ah yes. Hermione's told us a bit about those. Apparating and portkeys and flow powder," he said solemnly, as if they were quite normal to him.

"_Floo_ powder, Dad," Hermione corrected, the affectionate tone in her voice reminding Sirius of how she corrected Mr. Weasley when he spoke of his Muggle contraptions.

The drive was uneventful, with Helen pointing out small landmarks of the town and spouting off on Muggle history as Daniel remained stoically silent. Sirius listened attentively, nodding at appropriate moments and all the while appreciating where Hermione had inherited her enormous intellect.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Sirius tried not to be amused by the way the Muggle world operated. Waiters were running all over, the door of the kitchen swung open and closed, partially revealing several chefs working quickly to get plates out to hungry patrons. He had always admired the ingenuity of Muggles, though not with the voracity that Mr. Weasley did.

As they sat, Helen noticed the ring on her daughter's finger. Unable to contain her admiration, she grasped Hermione left hand for a closer examination.

"Oh my," she said, watching as the stones caught the light. "This is absolutely stunning, 'Mione."

"Yes, he did do well, didn't he?" Hermione said, squeezing Sirius's hand with a small smile.

Daniel glanced at it, expressionless.

"It looks expensive," he said, casually perusing his menu. "What do you do, Sirius?"

"I…er…I'm not working at the moment," Sirius said timidly, knowing unemployment was not the most impressive thing, especially to a wary father.

"Oh?" As expected, there was an edge to Daniel's voice. "And why's that?"

"Sirius comes from money, Dad," Hermione said. "And he has almost doubled his inheritance through some very wise investments."

This seemed to peak the older man's curiosity.

"Stock market, eh? What's in your portfolio, then?"

"Erm…" Sirius looked at Hermione. It was true that he had made some investments in the wizarding market since his return from the Veil, but most had been at Hermione's urging and he wasn't entirely certain he understood exactly what he had gotten into as she talked to him about it.

"He's a shareholder in a chain of stores our friends own," Hermione said, rescuing him yet again. "You remember Ron Weasley, don't you? His older twin brothers own a series of joke…er…_toy_ stores," she said, stretching the truth just a bit about Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Sirius was fairly sure her parents wouldn't think very highly of an investment in the jokes and pranks industry, despite how much _he_ still enjoyed them.

"A toy store?" Daniel said, his eyes narrowing slightly as he put his menu down. "Do you like toys, Sirius?"

Had Sirius not known what he did about Hermione's past, he would have thought the question somewhat odd. He knew now, however, that the question was loaded. With Hermione's history, it made sense that her father would be concerned with his young daughter marrying an older man whose interests were tied, however loosely, to children. The question wasn't merely '_Do you like toys?_' It was '_How big of a pervert are you, really?_'

"I was just helping out a couple of friends," Sirius said, trying his best to be both casual and careful. "I don't have a strong opinion either way about the toys themselves, though I know I would probably be the type of father who would spoil his child rotten with hundreds of toys."

"So you want children of your own?" Helen asked, and he couldn't help but hear a slight lilt of happiness at the prospect of grandchildren.

"Yes. Not a big family, but maybe one or two. Not immediately, of course. I'll leave the fates to decide when would be the best time for us…er…_me_. As of right now, though, I have all the family I need with Harry."

Daniel frowned slightly.

"Harry? As in…Harry Potter? You're related?"

"He's my godson…ow!"

He cringed as Hermione's shoe made contact with his shin. Looking at her in confusion, he noted her tense jaw and realized that she probably hadn't told her parents that piece of information, as it only exacerbated the age difference.

"How long have you two _really_ known each other, 'Mione?" Daniel asked quietly.

"A few years," Hermione replied evasively, suddenly enthralled by her menu. "Sirius, you should really try the Veal Provencale. It comes with a delicious cremini mushroom risotto."

"Please answer your father, darling," Helen said.

Hermione sighed.

"I met Sirius when I was thirteen," she said. "But between the ages of thirteen and fifteen we barely saw each other and then he was…er…gone _completely_ for two years after that. By the time we re-connected, I was of age and mature enough to know…" She trailed off, not wanting to reveal that which Sirius already knew.

She sighed.

"You both know the circumstances surrounding this marriage. You need to trust my judgment on it."

"Trust your judgment?! Hermione, you are barely an adult!" Daniel hissed.

"I'm hardly a child," Hermione replied coolly. "I've experienced my own lifetime of horrors and hardships, most of which you would not be able to fathom so let's drop it and enjoy dinner, shall we?"

She left no room for argument and thankfully, her father didn't give her one.

They ordered their food and sat for a few moments in a tense silence. Looking around desperately for a conversation starter, Sirius saw a dance floor populated with a few couples. Turning back to the quiet table, he cleared his throat and stood.

"Helen," he said nervously. "Would you honor me with a dance?"

He felt instant relief as the woman flushed slightly.

"Um…yes. Sure."

They stood and Sirius let her lead them to the dance floor.

"I…er…apologize for our behavior this evening," Helen said as he swept her gracefully around the floor. "This has been a bit of a shock for us."

"It's perfectly understandable," he said graciously, happy that at least one of her parents was being civil to him. "Hermione is an exceptional young woman. But you should know that I really do have the utmost respect for her."

"Yes," she said. "Yes, I can see that. But I'm sure _you_ know she's our only child and…well…she was very difficult to come by."

"You have my word that she will be properly looked after and protected. No one wants to see harm befall her."

Helen smiled slightly.

"If that were true, I hardly think you would be in this situation, Sirius."

He chuckled.

"Touché. But despite her age, Hermione is the brightest witch I know. She is essential to our cause, and to Harry. Any one of us would gladly lay down our lives for her."

"I hope it would never come down to that," she said. Then she sighed. "I don't pretend to know everything that you and your kind are going through, but I know enough to worry about her. I _am_ glad that she has such good friends, especially one like you, who is willing to marry her to save her from this. You seem to care for her a great deal."

"I do. We all do. Though, I suppose under these unfortunate circumstances, I'm getting the better end of the deal. Even a marriage based on love and devotion cannot guarantee a wizard a beautiful, brilliant witch for a spouse. All she'll have to show for it is me."

Helen laughed.

"Don't sell yourself short, Sirius. Intelligent though she may be, Hermione is still her mother's daughter. She will not underestimate having a generous, good-looking husband."

The song ended and they clapped for the band before heading back to the table. They found Hermione and Daniel embroiled in a heated argument.

"I just don't understand why you can't marry someone your own age!" Daniel was saying, not bothering to pause for the new arrivals.

"I've told you…no one my age is eligible," she replied.

"What about your friends? Harry, or Ron, or even that delightful young man we met at your graduation? Neville, I think his name was."

"Harry is a half-blood, Dad, and happily engaged to Ron's little sister Ginny. Ron is marrying Luna, and Neville just became engaged to our classmate Hannah not two weeks ago. There honestly isn't anyone else."

"And they wouldn't sacrifice their own marriages for you?"

"I wouldn't ask them to!" Hermione said angrily, her face red with frustration. "No one should have to sacrifice their happiness when there's so little of it right now."

"And why couldn't you just leave the country? You sent _us_ to Australia that year you and Ron and Harry went gallivanting around the country. We could go back there. All of us. Your mother and I were quite happy there."

"Firstly, we were hardly _gallivanting_. Second, this is hardly the same situation. You were in mortal danger and there are times when I contemplate the wisdom of bringing you back because for all intents and purposes, you're _still_ in mortal danger."

"But we could all go and we could live a _normal_ life, just like we did before…"

"Daniel," Helen said quietly. "You need to come to terms with this. It's going to happen, whether we give our blessing or not, and I would prefer not to lose our daughter a second time because you have a few minor issues with her fiancé."

"Yes, well, you'll pardon me if I'm not as easily swayed by a handsome face and a spin around the dance floor," the frustrated man replied heatedly.

Sirius recognized the building tension in Helen's jaw, so he turned to Hermione.

"Fancy a dance, kit…Hermione?" he asked, catching himself before the less-than-appropriate nickname slipped from his lips.

"Yes," she said decidedly, and he chuckled to himself as she led them to the dance floor.

"Relax, kitten," Sirius said softly in her ear as he pulled her to him, feeling her tense muscles as he wrapped his arm around her waist. "He's just worried about you."

She sighed.

"I know. But there's a frustratingly large disconnect between his fears and the situation."

"His fears are not unfounded, 'Mione. Especially the age difference."

She looked up at him contemplatively, searching his face. He must have looked somewhat guilty because she sighed.

"Who told you?"

"Who told me what?" he asked, but she gave him a look and he sighed. "Both Remus and Ron. They thought I needed to know after your attempt at dismemberment this afternoon."

Her nostrils flared slightly.

"I see."

"I'm glad they told me," he said. "I know myself well enough to know that I probably would have done something stupid if they hadn't."

She gave him a small smile.

"I'm not entirely sure you won't still do something stupid in the course of events."

He chuckled.

"Fair point."

There was a comfortable silence between them where she seemed to relax, laying her head against his chest as they moved to the quiet jazz. Then she looked up at him curiously.

"What were you talking to my mother about?" she asked.

He grinned.

"Why? Worried?"

She laughed.

"I have no doubt that she will be armed with embarrassing childhood photos the next time she sees you, but I was hoping tonight would be devoid of mortifying anecdotes."

He chuckled again.

"We talked about you, mostly. I told her I thought you were the one getting the raw end of the deal but she assured me that you would appreciate having a kind, caring, devastatingly handsome husband."

She nodded solemnly.

"I would indeed. I'll let you know when I find one."

He laughed, tickling her gently.

"Sassy little swot."

She smiled.

"We're going to have to work on your modesty, my dear Mr. Black."

"I have no idea what you mean, my darling Miss Granger. Someone as perfect as me is the very picture of modesty."

She laughed, shaking her head before glancing at the table.

"It looks like the dust has cleared. It might be safe to rejoin them."

He looked over warily.

"Are you certain? Can't we just stay here for…say…the rest of the evening?"

She laughed.

"Well, my dad looks sulky and my mother looks impossibly smug, so I believe we'll be alright. Though, Mum can be a bit unbearable when she's smug."

Sirius smirked.

"Funny…reminds me of someone _else_ I happen to know…"

The rest of the dinner went fairly smoothly in comparison to its relatively disastrous start. Though Daniel still regarded Sirius with ill-disguised trepidation, there were no more snarky comments and by the end of the meal – which Helen insisted upon paying for – both he and his wife were insisting that they be involved in the organization of the engagement party. As they parted outside the restaurant, Sirius felt a slight triumph well within him. He had survived meeting her parents and had done rather beautifully if he did say so himself.

After receiving a warm hug from Helen and a reluctant handshake from Daniel, Sirius – rather smugly – apparated them back to Grimmauld Place.

"How'd it go?" Lupin asked from the library where he, Harry, and Ron were sitting, the two younger men playing a game of wizard chess.

"Started out a bit rocky, but I managed to be charming enough to win over her mother," Sirius said, his smug smirk still in place as he threw himself carelessly into one of the overstuffed chairs.

Hermione rolled her eyes, though she smiled.

"The very picture of humility," she joked. Then she sighed. "Well, I'm going to turn in. Mrs. Weasley wants to meet tomorrow to discuss the engagement party and its up to me to inform her that she now has to plan it with my parents. I'll need all my energy for that."

They all chuckled and she turned to Sirius.

"I know you're already telling yourself this, but you really were amazing tonight. Thank you."

She leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips. Pulling away, she smiled at the rest of them before walking out.

Sirius didn't understand why his lips tingled from her brief touch.

"Uh-oh," Harry said with a chuckle. "I know that look."

"What look?" Sirius asked.

"The 'Hermione Look,'" Ron said. "It's a look I knew well."

"She's getting to you, Padfoot," Lupin joked. "You are besotted."

Sirius scoffed.

"Don't be daft. I admit she's beautiful…and sexy as hell sometimes. But she's entirely too smart for someone like me."

Lupin laughed.

"Truer words were never spoken."

Sirius shot his friend a look.

"Once this stupid law is repealed, I'll go my way and she'll go back to you, Moony, however misguided I believe the decision is. In the meantime, however," he continued, standing and stretching his long limbs. "I'm going to have a drink and go to bed because Muggle alcohol is revolting."

Harry grinned.

"The _dog_ doth protest too much, methinks," he teased.

"In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke," Lupin added.

"I' faith, _sirs_, I think you're blazon to be true," Ron concluded.

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"Somewhere in England, a Shakespearean scholar is crying," he said dryly before walking out of the library.


	10. Chapter 10: A Lover's Farewell: Again

**A/N:** Hey all! So, I forgot to put at the bottom of the last chapter that I'm holding a challenge of sorts. The first two people who can give me the correct play, act number, and scene number of the three Shakespearean quotes gets to name two important OCs that are coming up in the story. If you're interested, shoot me a PM with the information and I will let you know what character you're naming.

Also...I know I tried to end everything with Lupin all smushy and clean-cut in chapter 5 but if anyone's been in a situation like that, they know that nothing ever ends well, so this is my continuation of the brief love triangle that exists between my heroine and the two devastatingly GORGEOUS Marauders. My apologies for those who are like "Get on with the Sirius part already" but I think the whole added messiness to the situation will be GREAT plot fodder for a bit, especially at the beginning of the marriage itself, hehe.

ANYWAY...as always...READ AND REVIEW...you know the drill...

**Chapter Ten: A Lover's Farewell…Again**

"Ginny, you're being utterly ridiculous. I can't even begin to tell you how unnecessary this is."

"Will you shut up and let me think?"

Hermione sighed, crossing her arms over her chest in frustration. They had forty-five minutes before they were due at the tailor's and Ginny had insisted they get to Diagon Alley early to do what Ginny cryptically called 'bride duties.' Inferring that Ginny intended his fiancée to spend money, Sirius had given an argumentative Hermione his Gringott's pass – a small gold plate the size of a Muggle credit card that bore his engraved likeness and signature – and insisted that she use it.

Ginny had pulled her out of the house before the protesting witch had a chance to refuse.

Now, the morning of her engagement party and two weeks before the wedding, Hermione had spent the past hour trailing reluctantly after her eager friend as they flitted around the streets of the magical shopping area. Once Ginny had led them into a high-end lingerie store, however, Hermione put her foot down.

"I am in no short supply of undergarments, thank you very much, and quite honestly, Ginny, Harry would _kill_ you if you bought anything here," she said as Ginny floated over to a particularly naughty section, clearly feigning deafness.

"We are getting something for your wedding night and if you argue with me, so help me I will toss your stubborn arse into a dressing room and lock you in."

"But Ginny, they're so expensive," Hermione whined, ignoring the indignant look one of the shop girls sent her.

"It's not like _you're_ paying for it. Merlin, 'Mione, you'd think one of the richest wizards in the country hadn't just given you complete access to his bank account!"

"I'm _sure_ it's only meant for wedding business, Gin."

"This _is_ wedding business, _Herms_."

Hermione glowered at her friend for the use of the dreaded nickname, but remained silent as the unfazed redhead continued to look through the racks of satin, silk, and lace.

As Hermione had expected, the past week had gone by as rapidly as the one before. Quickly realizing that her powers of detail and organization didn't extend to wedding plans, Hermione had tentatively suggested to Sirius that they bring in outside help. As Mrs. Weasley was busy planning both Ron and Ginny's wedding – the two couples had decided a join wedding would be both convenient for their guests and cost efficient – Sirius had suggested getting a wedding planner.

Being Sirius, he went straight to the best.

Alexandra Orion Irons-Mulroney was a very talented, highly sought-after wedding planner to the magical elite. Thrice married, her elderly, wealthy husbands had a horrible habit of dying on her, though no one seemed too suspicious of the grieving widow. Her claim to fame had been the Black-Malfoy wedding of the 1970s, a fact that Hermione thought extremely suspect. Sirius, however, trusted that she would be able to get the job done quickly and accurately, and despite her seemingly snobbish attitude toward the fact that Hermione was Muggleborn, Hermione hadn't had any opportunity to really complain about what Alexandra had accomplished in the few days the woman had been in their employ.

Now, as Hermione watched Ginny pull garment upon garment from the shelves and hangers, she couldn't help but feel tired. The past few days had been a whirlwind of appointments with florists, caterers, and hair stylists, all of whom had interrogated Hermione with inane questions until she felt like her head was going to explode. The only thing that seemed to have fallen into perfect place with relative ease was the wedding location. After the couple had gone through what seemed like the entire country trying to find a venue, Professor McGonagall had finally offered Hogwarts as a possibility. Too overwhelmed to see another claustrophobic ballroom, both Sirius and Hermione had jumped at the chance to marry at the one place that held, for the most part, their fondest memories.

"OK," Ginny finally said, thrusting the proverbial mountain of various scandalous pieces in Hermione's arms. "I want you to try on all of these."

Hermione gave her friend a withering look as she picked out an emerald-green teddy.

"Green? Ginny, you know I hate…"

"Oh, sorry," Ginny interrupted, snatching it out of her arms. "That one was for me."

"Ginny…"

"Wotcher, ladies," a merry voice said and the two looked over to see Tonks and Luna approaching them. "Sorry we're late. I knocked some poor bloke over when I apparated here and we had to help him pick up his bags."

"Thank God you're here," Ginny said, following Hermione's lead as she hugged the two other bridesmaids. "We need your help. We're picking out something for the wedding night."

Luna looked around pensively.

"I never understood the concept of lingerie," she said mildly. "Ron is actually much more responsive when I _don't_ wear underwear."

Hermione and Tonks laughed as Ginny gagged.

"Yes, well," Tonks said, pushing Hermione towards the dressing rooms. "It is my understanding that not all men are quite so accommodating. Christ, Ginny, how many pairs of underwear do you think the poor girl needs?" she added as she picked through Hermione's heavily-laden arms.

"I just wanted her to have options," Ginny replied before unceremoniously pushing Hermione into the changing cubicle.

A few moments later, Hermione stepped out of the room in the first ensemble. It was the simplest of the bunch, starting with a lacey white camisole that led to a simple pair of bikini-cut knickers to match. It was simple, understated, and nothing like what Hermione would ever wear.

"No. Absolutely not. White is out of the question," Ginny said. "Makes you look too virginal. It would throw him off completely."

"It doesn't reveal enough," Luna said. "You have lovely breasts. You shouldn't hide them with that."

"Yeah, it's too simple," Tonks agreed. "I feel Sirius is like me, and would be a bloke who truly appreciates the intricacies of ladies' underwear."

"_You_ are a fan of lingerie?" Ginny asked, unable to hide her surprise. Hermione understood her shock. To most, Tonks had seemed like a very no-nonsense lover who appreciated a pair of plain cotton undies more than a lacey thong.

Hermione knew better, and Tonks grinned knowingly at her.

"I wasn't really, but Hermione showed me the error of my ways."

Hermione smirked. When Tonks had first come out of the closet, it had been at a time when Hermione needed a break from the intensity of dating Lupin. Feeling a change of pace was in order, she had volunteered herself as Tonks' sexual guinea pig and had given the tentative older witch two months to learn how to satisfy a female lover. The arrangement was the only one Hermione had ever entered that seemed to work out perfectly, as Tonks was nowhere near ready to settle down and Hermione had never been with a woman before but had always been somewhat curious. They had parted with Tonks much more experienced and Hermione content in the knowledge that, though sleeping with Tonks had been quite pleasurable, nothing could replace being fucked senseless by a man.

Hermione suspected that Lupin hadn't fully recovered from the scratch marks she had raked down his back the first time she slept with him after she and Tonks ended.

Needless to say, in the two months they had spent sleeping together, Tonks had a fairly intimate knowledge of Hermione's lingerie.

"You know, I never did find out if the boys knew you two were sleeping together," Ginny mused as Hermione went back into her cubicle to change.

Tonks chuckled.

"I think we decided not to tell them, for fear of the reaction we might get every time we touch each other in any way," she said.

"Though I think Remus figured it out. At least, that's what I keep telling myself when his eyes glaze over every time Tonks and I are together," Hermione called, causing the three to laugh.

"I never understood that fantasy," Luna said. "I mean, I don't find the idea of two _men_ together particularly appealing."

"No? Now see, I'm all for public displays of male affection. I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to jump Harry after seeing Sirius and Lupin hugging or even chuckling conspiratorially together," Ginny said wickedly, and Hermione could almost picture the smirk on her younger friend's face.

"Well, I can tell you that one of them is definitively straight and _thoroughly_ appreciative of the female form. The other, judging from his impressive track record, I would also state is definitively straight. Though I'm sure if you put enough alcohol into either of them, there's no telling what they'll do," she said.

Ginny chuckled.

"I have to admit that I'm somewhat jealous that you'll be able to make a comparative study of the two most handsome men we know. Besides Harry."

Hermione bit her tongue before she revealed to her friend that Remus and Sirius weren't the only members of the Order of the Phoenix she could make a comparative study about, but she didn't want to alert her friend to the fact that her fiancé was on that list.

Hermione emerged wearing what she thought was Ginny's most ridiculous choice of the bunch. It was a leather bustier with matching leather short shorts. She stood with her eyebrow arched and her hands on her hips as her friends burst into giggles.

"Really, Ginny?" she asked, giving her friend another withering look.

"I just wanted to see if you'd put it on!" her friend said through her giggles.

"Actually, Gin, I think the funny thing is that Hermione _has_ a leather ensemble already," Tonks said with a laugh. "And it's far more risqué than _that_!"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Thanks, Tonks," she said before going back into the dressing room.

She emerged minutes later wearing something she would have never picked out for herself, but upon seeing her reflection she thought it wouldn't be too bad. It was a pale blue lace push-up bra with a matching set of hip-hugging panties that sat under a sheer baby-doll slip that sat open from just under her breast bone to her hips. The edges were trimmed with soft white feathers.

"Ooh…this has potential," Ginny said with a smile. "I like this a lot."

"Eh…not too crazy about the color," Tonks said appraisingly. "It reminds me of a baby blanket."

"I wonder what type of bird they used for the feathers," Luna said thoughtfully.

"I don't know. I mean, it's sexy in a soft sort of way but to be honest I'm not really the 'I'm beautiful, make love to me' type of girl. I'm more of a 'I'm a demon in the sack, rip this off my body' type of girl," Hermione said, looking at herself in the full-length mirror that sat in the hallway.

Tonks shrugged.

"It _is_ your wedding night, 'Mione. Perhaps you should allow yourself a _little_ romance?" She stood. "I'll go see if they have it in silver. To match Sirius's eyes."

She winked at her friend and disappeared around the corner.

"How many more do you have?" Luna asked, glancing at her watch.

"Just one," Hermione replied.

"One?! I gave you at least a dozen!" Ginny said.

"And I'm not bloody likely to wear half of them," Hermione replied. "As I said, I'm not one for romance, Gin."

"Alright, alright. Go try the last one on while Tonks looks for a different color for that one," Ginny replied.

Hermione walked back to change. She looked at the final piece with interest. She had left it last, simply because it was just the type of piece she would pick for herself and yet there was something about it that made her think she probably would have overlooked it if she were shopping herself. Sighing, she put it on, not really expecting any large transformation, but found herself speechless as she looked in the mirror.

She had never before felt so sexy.

"Um, girls?" she said as she walked through the door. "I think we found it."

Luna and Ginny sat speechlessly as they looked at her.

The top was a corset, strapless with a sweetheart cut that showcased her cleavage. The color was a rich red but thick black satin vertical stripes seemed to elongate her torso. Black ribbon laced down the back, ending just above her butt in a bow. On her hips were a pair of v-string panties, the rich red lace matching the corset. Garters hung down her smooth thighs, connecting a pair of scalloped-lace-topped black silk thigh-high stockings.

"My God," Ginny said, unable to take her eyes off Hermione. "You look exquisite."

"I think _I_ might even think of marrying you," Luna agreed, a small smile on her face.

"OK, they didn't have silver, but I _did_ pick up a straggler on the way…whoa," Tonks was saying as she rounded the corner, stopping dead in her tracks and halting mid-sentence when she saw Hermione.

"Oof," a distinctly male voice said as a body plowed into Tonks. "A little warning, Tonks, next time you're going to…fucking _hell_."

Hermione smirked as Lupin skidded to a stop when he saw her. She watched his eyes gaze slowly from her feet to her eyes and that same primal feeling she always felt when he looked at her like that shimmed down her spine.

"What do you think?" Ginny asked cheekily as Lupin's cheeks started to flush. "Do you think Sirius will like it?"

"If he doesn't, I'll kill him," Lupin said, still not taking his eyes off Hermione. "I'll kill him and ravish you after."

Hermione smirked, arching her eyebrow.

"Getting in touch with our animalistic side, are we Moony?"

Heat pooled to her loins as she realized that it was two days until the full moon. Had it been a month ago, she wouldn't have hesitated to drag him into the dressing room and let him have his way with her in any and every manner he could devise, knowing that she would love every back-arching, muscle-bruising minute of it. _But that was then and this is now_, she thought, ridding her mind of the thoughts and hoping – though she was subconsciously certain that she had nothing to worry about – that Sirius lived up to his sexual reputation. A wave of heat went through her body as she briefly imagined herself gripping his black hair while he ravished her body, his Adonis-like muscles rippling as his hips worked wonders...

Good God she needed to get ahold of herself. This was _Sirius_ she was fantasizing about. When did _that_ happen?

"What brings you here, Remus?" Luna asked as Hermione went back into the changing room.

"What? Oh. I was sent to fetch you lot. We're due at the tailor's in five minutes."

"Are Sirius and the boys already there?" Hermione asked as she tried to unlace the corset.

"They were headed there when I left them," came the reply.

Realizing that it would take more than one person to get her out of the outfit – and subtly thinking that that was a possible selling point for the item – Hermione told her friends to go ahead without her and asked Lupin to come in and help her. She knew she was asking for trouble by inviting him in as she was in various states of undress, but she was surprisingly more comfortable with the idea of him undressing her, even if it _was_ platonically, than any of the girls.

"You're going to kill me, you know," he murmured in her ear as his fingers trailed down her back. "It's taking every ounce of self-control I possess not to rip this bloody thing off you."

Hermione closed her eyes as his lips touched her shoulder, his fingers splaying up her stomach to cup her breasts as he lifted the corset off of her.

"We can't," she whispered as his hand ran down her stomach and into the panties, gasping as his fingers found her wet and waiting for him. She moaned softly as he teased her clit, his lips on her neck and his breath hot against her skin.

"Just one more time," he breathed as he lowered the underwear and let it fall to the floor. "You can't let me walk out of here like this."

As if to illustrate his point, he thrust his hips into her backside and she arched her back as she felt his erection pressing through his pants.

She spun around to face him.

"We have to make this quick," she murmured against his lips as she hastily unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his pants.

They were quick and frenzied, her gripping his hair as he thrust hard and deep into her needful body. Somewhere in the back of her mind, her ever-present logic was berating her, telling her that this was wrong and that it should have ended a week ago when they had made love in his room. But he always felt so _good_ just before the full moon.

He kissed her hard as she came, muffling her moans as he worked his hips harder, desperate to find his own completion. He gripped her hips painfully, burying his head in her neck as he exploded within her, biting her neck to stop himself from crying out at the sheer bliss of his orgasm.

"Oh God I'm going to miss this," he muttered into her hair as both their bodies spasmed slightly in the aftermath of their pleasure.

"Me too," she admitted, though she felt somewhat guilty at the thrill she got from the idea of being fucked senseless in a public place by a certain raven-haired, stormy-eyed wizard.

She shook her head quickly of the thoughts.

They straightened up and Hermione did a quick _Scourgify!_ of the undergarments. She knew she was going to buy them but there would be some questions if she took them to the counter in the state they were.

As they walked into the busy street, Hermione chanced a glance at him. He seemed thoughtful, his hands thrust in his pockets, his gaze intently on the ground.

"I'm sorry," she finally said.

"What for?" he asked.

"Just now. We shouldn't have…"

"I know. But…" He blushed slightly. "I just couldn't help myself."

She chuckled.

"I know. I've spent the past three years with you, remember? That's thirty-six lunar cycles. I think I have your number by now."

A small smile twitched on his handsomely-scarred face.

"I suppose I'm just jealous that Sirius is going to be the one ripping that outfit off of you in two weeks," he finally said.

"Just know you did it first," she replied, sighing when he didn't respond. "It won't mean anything, Remus. You know that. It's just something that has to be done to play this ridiculous role."

"It didn't mean anything with us either," he mumbled.

She stopped, pausing him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," she said softly. "It wasn't like that with you, Remus. I mean…" She frowned slightly. "It meant something. Just not…_the_ something."

"Doesn't make it any easier to deal with, though, does it?" he asked softly.

"Don't make this harder than it already is," she begged as they stopped in front of the tailor's. "Please."

He sighed, saying nothing as he held the door open for her.

"Oh good, the bride is finally here," Alexandra said as they entered, her voice stern.

"Sorry. Just had to get something for the wedding night. Hello darling," Hermione said, ignoring the hurt look in Lupin's eyes as she slid into the practiced character of the affectionate fiancée and slipped easily into Sirius's open arms.

She was surprised at the jolt she felt when his fingers danced playfully on the patch of skin between her jumper and her jeans. That was new.

"Hello, beautiful," he replied, seemingly oblivious to her body's reaction to him as he kissed the top of her head. "Oh, I know _that_ store," he added with a grin when he saw her bag. "Lemme see."

"Not 'til after the wedding," she said playfully, swatting her curious hand from the bag. "It's a surprise."

"Bloody tease," he said before poking her in the side and she felt slightly flushed by the heated look he gave her.

Was it real, or just part of the act?

Alexandra arched her perfectly-groomed eyebrow.

"As eager as I'm _sure_ you two may be, there needs to be a wedding before there can be a wedding night, so if we could please get on?" she asked, snapping her fingers at a scurrying elf who was carrying an armload of cloth toward the back room. Hermione couldn't help the cold look she shot the older woman. She didn't appreciate the thoroughly jaded manner with which the woman carried herself. If she had been a _real_ bride, she knew she would have found it severely off-putting.

"Ladies to the right, gentlemen to the left," the elf, her arms now cloth-free, squeaked as she led them to the back of the store. "And please, sirs, no peeking at the ladies. It's bad luck."

Having already discussed measurements and styles with the dressmakers, the girls weren't too surprised at the beautiful dresses that were laid out for them as they entered their large fitting room, though the beauty of it all was slightly overwhelming. Hermione couldn't help the little girl within her that squealed slightly at the sight of it.

"Alright, ladies, listen up," Alexandra said as she swept into the room with her clipboard. "From Miss Granger's description of what she wants, we were able to come up with three different styles for you, though I hadn't counted on such…_vibrant_ hair colors," she said, glancing from Luna's bright blonde to Ginny's flaming red to Tonks' indescribable magenta.

"What color would you like it?" Tonks asked, scrunching her face until her hair became a subdued brown. "Brunette, so you have a little bit of everything walking down the aisle?" She scrunched her face again and a waterfall of silky raven hair fell around her shoulders. "Or black, to prove I'm Sirius's cousin?"

The woman looked unfazed, writing something on the clipboard.

"You're a metamorphmagus," she stated. "That's good. We won't have to worry about alterations with you."

Tonks rolled her eyes and sat on a poof next to a smirking Ginny.

"Luna, your dresses are over in that corner," Alexandra then said, pointing to a rack. "Ginevra, yours are next to Miss Granger's dresses and Nymphadora, yours are next to Luna's."

Hermione laughed as both Ginny and Tonks shot the woman a murderous look.

"Just so you know, Alexandra, they like to be called 'Ginny' and 'Tonks.'"

"I see," she responded, curling her lip slightly at the idea of calling anyone 'Tonks.' "Well, Miss Granger, your dresses are hanging by the mirrors. Just as you asked, there are no sleeves, no decorative rhinestones, and no veil."

"Thank you," Hermione said politely and with a final nod, Alexandra walked out.

"She's a bit full of herself, isn't she?" Tonks asked, walking over to her rack to survey the dresses.

"Part of the industry, I suppose," Luna said as she pulled her t-shirt off. "Did you know Daddy ran an article stating the wedding industry generally puts a 25 percent mark-up for Muggleborn brides?"

"Really?" Hermione, Ginny, and Tonks all said, not necessarily surprised about the mark-up but at the fact that the Quibbler ran a factual article.

"Oh yes. You see, he attributed the clear oversight to the overexposure of the twylar seed they put in the softening potion they use for the satin."

"Oh," Hermione said, slightly disappointed. Twylar seed was rarely used in potions due to its tendency to make the potion maker drowsy, and she was certain it wasn't needed in a simple softening potion.

"So what happened with you and Lupin, eh?" Tonks asked wickedly, pinching the red teeth marks that were on Hermione's neck.

Hermione smiled slightly.

"We reminisced on old times," she said evasively.

Ginny looked at her worriedly.

"Hermione…be careful with him. I know it's close to the full moon and his nerves was on overdrive but…you _can't_ keep doing that to him. He's going to get hurt."

"Ginny, he's told me a hundred times that there are no feelings involved," Hermione replied, snapping up the back of the dress she was trying on.

"Just because he says there aren't doesn't mean it's true," Luna said softly, flattening out the skirt of the dress she was wearing.

Hermione chose not to think about her friends' warnings.

As expected – because nothing could ever go smoothly – each of her friends looked stunning in a different style of the beautiful lavender-colored bridesmaid dresses. When Alexandra returned and suggested they start from scratch again, Hermione decided that she didn't care enough about uniformity to go through another fitting. So, against Alexandra's judgment, Hermione allowed the girls to keep their respective styles and turned her attention back to her own dress.

The first one she tried on was the one she knew she wanted.

It was strapless and simple, the fitted bodice dipping into her curves before dropping into a beautiful full skirt. Subtle gold stitching lined the dress and a thin layer of lace made intricate patterns over the material. It was made of silk and lace and felt gorgeous against her body. Hermione wondered where she had suddenly gotten the glow that seemed to kiss her skin.

"Yes, that's the one," Alexandra said from behind her. "We found the dress." She checked something off on her clipboard and gave a sigh. "It looks like you don't need any alterations so for the love of Merlin, don't lose or gain any weight before the wedding."

"I hardly think it's possible in two weeks," Ginny mumbled.

"You'd be surprised, dear. Now," Alexandra glanced down at her clipboard again. "That band I was telling you about is playing at a wedding in Hogsmeade tonight. I suggest we go and have a listen."

"Oh…we can't tonight," Hermione said as Tonks helped her out of the dress. "Our…um…our engagement party is tonight."

Alexandra frowned.

"I don't have it written on my schedule," she said.

"Our parents organized it," Ginny said, zipping up her hooded jacket. "It's not like it's going to be the social event of the season."

"Why wasn't I told?"

"Because quite frankly, you aren't invited."

Hermione could tell by the older woman's scowl and Ginny's reddening cheeks that a duel might ensue between them is she didn't step in. Smiling apologetically at Alexandra, Hermione put a soothing but firm hand on Ginny's shoulder.

"I'm sorry for not telling you," she said as Ginny glared. "Between work and running around preparing for the wedding, it simply slipped my mind. It's very low key…just friends and family mostly. No need to worry yourself about it." She hesitated before adding: "You're more than welcome to join us if you like."

Both Tonks and Ginny glowered at her but Alexandra brushed the offer aside.

"I have enough work to do so I won't have time to relax at your little party," she said somewhat haughtily. "But where is it going to be?"

"We don't know yet," Tonks said before Hermione could answer. "But if you owl Hermione later, I'm sure she'll tell you."

"Oh, never mind!" the woman said huffily and walked out.

Hermione looked reproachfully at Tonks and Ginny.

"That was rude," she said.

"She started it!" Ginny hissed, putting her hands on her hips in a decidedly Mrs. Weasley manner.

"Yeah…she's very unpleasant," Tonks agreed.

"Look, she may be a little…difficult…but she's the best at what she does and I'd prefer not to make an enemy of someone who is helping me out, alright? So _if_ she comes to the party tonight, _be nice_."

The two grumbled but agreed half-heartedly.

"You know," Luna said contemplatively. "I never realized just how much information a wedding planner is privy to. I mean…she knows almost every move you make, where you're going to be at any given moment…she even organizes your food and drinks. She'd be horrible to have as an enemy. There are so many things she could do, virtually undetected."

Ginny scoffed.

"What's she gonna do? Attack me with flowers and muslin?"

Hermione remained silent, wondering if Luna didn't have a valid point. She made a mental note to do a bit of unofficial digging when she had the opportunity.

"Is everyone decent?" Ron's voice asked from the other side of the curtain just as Hermione was closing the garment bag that held her dress. She could tell by her friend's tone that he didn't want to stay there any longer than he had to.

"Yes," Hermione replied, turning as Ron, Harry, Sirius, and Lupin filed in.

"Good," Ron said, walking over to Luna and kissing her soundly. "I'm starving. Let's go to the Leaky for lunch."

Chuckling at her friend's predictable behavior in terms of food, Hermione shook her head and followed her friends out. She tried to ignore the knowledge that Lupin's eyes were locked on the back of her head or that Sirius's arm casually draped around her waist as they walked was making her body feel things she hadn't felt since her first night with Lupin.

Quite confused and feeling her fatigue overwhelm her, Hermione decided that she would have a long nap before they left for the party. It would be just the thing to forget Lupin, Sirius, and the unfortunate situation that loomed before her in two weeks time, approaching far too quickly for her liking.

* * *


	11. Chapter 11: A Thing for the Letter 'H'

**A/N:** _Hey all! Quick question - How many people are upset about how Lupin is written in this story? I've never been a fan of quiet, whiny Remus, just because I feel he's much more than that, but some people have taken issue with his overt sexuality. Does this bother many people? I'm just curious, because for another fic I'm currently working on (to be posted enmasse at some later date) has him a bit quieter and I want to know if that's preferred._

_Also, thanks to_ **diamond-helen**, **Justice's Quill**, _and_ **FaithfulHPReader** _for taking me up on my Shakespeare challenge! They have named 3 upcoming OC characters, so keep an eye out for them!_

**AS ALWAYS PLEASE...READ and REVIEW!**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter Eleven: A Thing for the Letter 'H'**

"Stop fidgeting. You look like you don't want to be here."

"I bloody well _don't_ want to be here."

"You don't have a choice, Sirius, so have a firewhiskey and calm down."

Sirius sighed as Lupin looked at him sternly. They were standing at the bar of the elegant restaurant in Hermione's hometown of Haslemere. The Grangers, feeling slightly left out of the flurry of wedding plans, had requested – quite adamantly – to Mrs. Weasley that the engagement party be held in a location where Hermione's Muggle friends and family could come and join the festivities. Though all of the magical invitees had been warned against using magic that night, Sirius couldn't shake the horrible feeling that he and his friend would have to modify several memories should some of the guests forget themselves.

"Why on earth did Molly make this a black-tie affair?" Sirius asked, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the stifling top button of his suit.

"I don't think it was Molly's idea," Lupin said, nodding over to where the Weasley matriarch seemed to be struggling with her patience as the Grangers asked several clarifying questions about the food and liquor.

Sirius groaned.

"This must be costing them a fortune," he said, gazing at the gleaming marble floors and rich damask wall-hangings.

"She's their only child. My guess is they provided for something like this when planning their finances."

"Still, though…" Sirius let himself trail off slightly before looking around the room with a short exhalation of air. "I don't think I can handle meeting more of her family, mate."

Lupin chuckled.

"All you have to do is be charming and utterly smitten with her. I think you can handle it."

Sirius didn't miss the knowing smirk his friend shot him, though he didn't notice that the smile didn't quite make the werewolf's eyes.

Sirius just rolled his eyes at his friend.

"In no way do I regard Miss Granger as more than a brilliant, beautiful young _friend_ to whom the fates seem intent on bullying."

Lupin shook his head with a small smile.

"You forget, mate…I've seen the wedding night outfit. And from extensive personal experience, I _know_ Hermione will undoubtedly spin even _your_ oversexed head."

Sirius grinned in spite of himself.

"I'm not saying the thought of Miss Granger writhing beneath me hasn't crossed my mind," he said, smirking as he misinterpreted the brief glaze that passed Lupin's eyes. "I'm simply saying that before you or anyone else gets any ideas of an epic whirlwind romance blossoming between us, you should know that we regard each other with _mutual_ respect and admiration, but nothing more."

"Oh no? So when I tell you she's approaching us now, looking absolutely breathtaking, you'll be completely unfazed?" Lupin asked softly, his eyes fixed behind Sirius's head.

"As an appreciator of all beautiful things, I think 'unfazed' is a little cold, but I'm not going to melt into a…"

But he was rendered speechless when he turned to face his fiancée.

Her gown was the color of summer peaches and it clung to her body as if it was an extension of her soft skin. It was an empire waist, showing off her young breasts to their full advantage while the square-cut neckline and capped sleeves allowed for a modesty the event required. The soft chiffon skirt pooled elegantly at her feet and a simple pair of diamond earrings were the only jewelry – aside from her engagement ring – that she wore. Her hair was pulled into an elegant bun and her make-up highlighted her big brown eyes and soft pink lips.

"Good evening, gentlemen," she said with a soft smile, kissing Lupin affectionately on the cheek before linking her arm with Sirius's.

"Hermione Jane Granger, I believe you are the most beautiful bride-to-be in this room," Lupin said gallantly as Sirius continued to stare in stunned silence.

She laughed.

"Don't let the dozen or so _other_ brides-to-be hear you say that," she replied before looking curiously at Sirius. "Are you alright? You're uncharacteristically quiet."

Sirius ignored Lupin's knowing grin as he snapped himself back to attention.

"I was just telling myself what a lucky bastard I am to be marrying such a gorgeous young woman."

Hermione chuckled.

"No need for flattery, Mr. Black. You already know I'm going to sleep with you. It's a sure thing."

They all laughed but Sirius wondered why the knowledge that he would eventually be having sex with her made his stomach turn somersaults of excitement.

"I am continually surprised at just how well you clean up, Sirius Black," Hermione said, putting an admiring hand on his chest. "I've already had three women come up to me asking if you had an identical twin brother."

Sirius smirked.

"I'm one-of-a-kind, kitten. Blissfully unique."

"And thank Merlin for that," Hermione joked, receiving an indignant look in response.

Lupin sighed.

"Well, I'm going to toddle off and help Harry. I believe he's nervous about giving a speech tonight," he said, downing his whiskey before walking over to a fidgeting Harry Potter.

"He's been a little…off…since Diagon Alley," Sirius said, watching Lupin walk away. "Did something happen between you two?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but before she could Helen walked up to them.

"Hermione! There you are. My goodness, look at you two together! Such a handsome couple," she said, immediately pulling out a Muggle camera. Smiling roguishly, Sirius wrapped his arm around Hermione and they posed as Helen snapped the picture happily.

"Beautiful," Helen murmured, brushing a tear away from her eye. "OK, darling, I just wanted to know that Hester brought Athena with her tonight."

"What? No…" Hermione groaned.

"I know, I know, darling, but it just means we have to do a bit of creative maneuvering. Would you mind terribly if she sat at your table?"

"Yes I would mind horribly. I do not need her making eyes at my fiancé all night," Hermione snapped. Sirius remained quiet but cocked an eyebrow in interest.

Helen sighed.

"Well, I _could_ put her at our table, but Hermia's brought Hayden and you _know_ how much they don't get along, dear."

"I thought you said Hayden wasn't coming. Doesn't he have school?"

"He wanted to be here, love."

Hermione shrugged.

"Put Hayden at our table and put 'Thena at yours."

"Are you sure? He would be the only…er…you know…non-magic person…at your table."

"No good, kitten," Sirius said, feeling comfortable using her nickname around her mother. "Fred and George are at our table."

"Damnit," Hermione said. "Mum, I suppose you'll just have to tolerate Hayden _and_ Athena tonight."

Helen sighed again.

"Alright, darling. Well, enjoy the party. And Sirius, don't look so nervous! We're all quite fond of you now," she said with a smile before walking away.

"So…_how many_ family members will I have to meet tonight?" Sirius asked as he scanned the growing crowd.

"Honestly, not many. None of my father's family lives in the country and my mother's family is fairly small. You will, however, be meeting my delightful cousin, Athena," she replied, sarcasm dripping from her last statement.

"Not a fan of your cousin?" Sirius asked empathetically, knowing the feeling all too well.

She sighed.

"'Thena and I are the same age and have always been in something of a competition. I was the brains, but she was the beauty, so you can imagine who tended to win most of those little competitions. My aunt dotes on her which makes her a bit of a pain to deal with. Anyway, we never really got along. I was always much closer with her sister Emily, even though she's five years older. She's in New York City right now, though. Couldn't make back for the party just because it was such short notice."

"That's a shame," Sirius said, finding himself oddly intrigued by the idea of meeting the Muggle who Hermione held in such high esteem.

"It is, really. Emily was the only other family member I told about being a witch. I wanted her in my wedding party but she wasn't sure she'd be able to come home for the wedding either. She's a writer, you see, and doesn't have much money to spend."

"Ah," was all Sirius said as he filed the information away with a small smile. Then he sighed. "So…Helen, Hermione, Hermia, Hester, Hayden…your family has a thing for the letter 'H', I see."

Hermione chuckled.

"Sort of. My mother's the youngest of three sisters: Hermia, Hester, and Helen. My mother didn't particularly want to continue the tradition, but my father liked the name 'Hermione' so she really didn't have a choice. Aunt Hester hated the whole idea of naming her children after one letter, especially the letter 'H', so her two daughters are Emily and Athena. Personally, I think she's bitter because she was stuck with the name 'Hester.'" Sirius chuckled and Hermione sighed. "Anyway, my aunt Hermia _loves_ the tradition. She has three boys: Hector, Hugh, and Hayden."

"And Hayden's the one who's here?"

"Yeah. Hec and Hugh both work in London and wouldn't have been able to come out here in time."

"A shame, really, because Hugh is _always_ good for a laugh," a simpering soprano said and Sirius noticed Hermione flinch as they turned to face a beautiful brunette.

Sirius couldn't help the sly once-over he gave the young woman in front of him. Hermione's assessment that Athena was the 'beauty' of the family was not lost on him. Her long brown hair was silky and straight; her nose small and slightly upturned, leaning to a pair of enticing pink lips. Her body was slim, with a pair of breasts that he was not entirely sure were real but regardless produced the effect they intended. Her hips were subtle, but she carried herself in a way that was distinctly feminine.

Yet it was her eyes that gave away the reasoning behind Hermione's clear dislike. They were a cold, calculating pale jade green and reminded Sirius a lot of Slytherin eyes. And all of a sudden, Sirius felt himself craving the warmth and depth of a pair of hazel he knew so well.

"Hello 'Thena. You're looking well," Hermione said, subconsciously holding Sirius tighter to her. He wrapped his arm around her waist reassuringly, knowing that the unabashed look of hunger in her cousin's eyes as they swept over him had probably brought on the possessive action.

"Thanks, darling. You don't look too bad…though that dress does nothing for your figure," Athena responded and Sirius couldn't help but hold back a smirk at the fact that Athena's dress left little to the imagination nor was it nearly as classy as Hermione's.

"I'm glad of that, love," Sirius said to Hermione, donning the costume of the devoted fiancé. "Wouldn't want other men looking at what is not theirs to look at."

Hermione smiled slightly at him and he felt her relax in his arms.

"Are you going to introduce me to this _gorgeous_ man beside you, Hermione, or do I have to do that myself?" Athena said, batting her eyes flirtatiously at Sirius.

"Oh, yes. Sirius, darling, this is my cousin, Athena Lennox," Hermione said, less than enthusiastically.

"Welcome to the family, Sirius," Athena said throatily, extending her hand in a way that showed she intended him to kiss it. Instead, he shook it with a half-hearted smile.

"Thank you," he said. "Hermione was just telling me about you."

"All bad things, I hope," she said, a light, seductive teasing to her tone.

"No, I was just explaining the family tree," Hermione replied easily. "Explaining Aunt Hermia and the continuation of the 'H' tradition."

"A horrible choice of hers, if you ask me," Athena said rather haughtily. "I'm so glad Mum came to her senses and chose decent names for us."

"I actually like the names 'Helen' and 'Hermione,'" Sirius said. "I've mentioned to Hermione more than once that we should name our first daughter after her mother."

He triumphed slightly as a small smirk appeared on Hermione's lips.

"Oh really? Have you changed your mind about children then, Herms?" the other woman asked. "You used to break into hives at the _idea_ of having kids."

Hermione tried to ignore her annoyance at the use of the nickname her cousin _knew_ bothered her before looking adoringly up at Sirius.

"I suppose that happens when you fall in love," she said.

Sirius didn't know what possessed him, but he was overcome with a need to kiss those full, pouty lips. Leaning down, he placed a soft, lingering kiss on her lips, to which she responded with a tiny smile and the hint of a sexy wink.

Athena looked slightly put out at the display of such affection.

"So, Sirius," she said. "Has Aunt Helen shown you the dreaded baby pictures yet? They're really quite something."

"Oh, I've seen a couple," Sirius said, tearing his eyes away from his amused fiancée to glance indifferently at her cousin. "But they only endeared her more to me. I've always had a weakness for the bushy-haired and brainy."

If the logical side of his brain had been working properly, it would have screamed words of warning at him for his comfort in playing his role. As it was, however, his practical side had taken a brief leave of absence from his brain, and so he was relying purely on instinct when he lovingly kissed Hermione's hand, unwittingly showing Athena the engagement ring.

Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from laughing at the look on her cousin's face.

"Er…how's _your_ boyfriend, 'Thena? Jeremy, wasn't it?"

Athena, recovering from the shock of seeing such a beautiful ring on her least favorite cousin, scoffed rather heavily.

"That tosser? Haven't seen him in _ages_. He wanted to move to Ireland to work at some hospital and I was not going to uproot _my_ life just so he could go and save lives in bloody Dublin. Mum told you he was a surgeon, right?"

Hermione's mouth twitched slightly in amusement at the memory of her Aunt Hester boasting loudly to anyone that would listen that her daughter was dating a successful surgeon.

"She might have mentioned it," was all she said.

"Yeah, well, he was a loser. Horrible in bed, too, but I suppose _you_ don't have that problem, eh Herms? Or are you still saving yourself 'til marriage?"

Sirius, despite his slight amusement that the sensual witch in his arms had _ever_ considered abstaining from sex until marriage, was about to make a flippant remark about the brilliance of their imaginary sex life, but Hermione beat him to it.

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell, 'Thena," she said and Sirius didn't miss the mocking tone. "But I'll have you know that I have _absolutely_ no complaints."

Sirius grinned.

"Nor do I, kitten."

The use of the intimate nickname seemed to spark something in the infuriating Muggle as she crossed her arms, slightly huffy at her clear lack of effect on him. Sirius ignored her, choosing instead to wonder at how nicely Hermione's curves fit into the side of his body.

"So," Athena asked tightly. "How long have you been together?"

"Just a few months," Sirius said. "But I knew the moment I met her that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her."

"Hmm…is that so?" Athena replied and Sirius had the odd feeling that she saw the statement as more of a challenge than a deterrent. "Well, I wish you both the best of luck."

And with that, she sashayed away.

Hermione let out the breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

"She's ghastly," she muttered.

Sirius chuckled.

"There's one in every family," he said. "Or, in my case, two. Thank Merlin for 'Dromeda or I would have gone completely nutters during family events."

Hermione smiled slightly, glancing up at him.

"You laid it on rather thick, didn't you? Especially that last comment."

He smirked.

"Anything worth doing is worth doing right."

She chuckled.

"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I know it must have been hard, especially since she _does_ look rather…enticing…in that dress."

He shook his head.

"I don't like girls who try too hard to be sexy. I like a challenge."

"'Thena is challenging, but not in that way," she said with a slight laugh. Then she grinned at him. "That kiss was a nice touch. You almost had _me_ believing you were the starry-eyed lover."

"You don't exactly make it difficult to pretend to be in love with you."

She smiled softly.

"All the same," she muttered. "I know this isn't your ideal situation and I appreciate…"

"'Mione," he interrupted gently. "I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. No matter how many slutty cousins you might have."

"Well…thank you."

"No problem. Now," He clapped his hands together. "Let's meet the rest of your family, shall we?"

The evening carried on in a whirl of family and friends and by the time they sat for dinner, Sirius felt slightly overwhelmed. Despite being a man of above-average intelligence, he had never had a head for names. It was especially difficult when a lot of them started with the same letter.

Meeting the people from Hermione's Muggle world also threw into perspective just how similar their backgrounds were. Despite her parents' clear lack of respect for aristocracy, Hermione's Aunt Hermia had informed Sirius – quite proudly – that their side of the family had descended from a long line of dukes and duchesses. And though the Grangers weren't as ostentatious about their wealth as the Noble House of Black, it was clear that the two dentists were quite financially successful and Hermione had never really wanted for anything.

Sirius also noticed that, even as a young child, Hermione had preferred the company of male friends. She had gone to a co-educational independent primary school and a few of her childhood friends had been invited, most of them young men. They also seemed to be from financially comfortable families, and Sirius tried his best to look suitably impressed when Hermione mentioned schools like Eton, Harrow, Oxford, and Cambridge.

"So, Sirius, where did you matriculate?" Hermione's cousin, Hayden, asked, bringing Sirius's attention to the quickly filling table. Hermione had been talking to her cousin and Sirius could tell that she was infinitely more comfortable and fond of the young man than she was of Athena.

Sirius glanced at Hermione, unsure what he meant, and she chuckled.

"Sirius went to Hogwarts, like me," she said easily. "After which he joined the Army so he didn't have time to go to university."

Sirius exchanged looks with Harry. While Hermione was seemingly quite proficient in the art of concocting a brilliant and believable Muggle background for him, Sirius wasn't entirely sure there was enough room in his brain at the moment to keep it all straight.

"The Army? Really? Did you see any action?"

Hermione shot Sirius a look that buried the less-than-appropriate response that was running through his head.

"A bit," he replied, glancing up in relief as Lupin sat at the table. "Moony…er…_Remus_ and I served together."

"Served what?" the clueless werewolf asked, causing Ginny to snort involuntarily at the growing absurdity of the situation.

"I was just telling my cousin Hayden that you and Sirius went into the Army after graduating from Hogwarts," Hermione explained, warning in her eyes.

"Oh," Lupin said, catching on. "Yes. Sirius and I signed up together. You know, for…er…queen and country."

"Good men," Hayden said, seeming quite impressed. "How long did you serve?"

"Er…I served for three years. Moony served a few more," Sirius said.

"Moony? Is that some Army nickname?"

"Yes," Lupin said easily, though his eyes told Sirius to watch himself. "I'm Moony and Sirius here is Padfoot. Harry's father, who unfortunately died in…er…_combat_…was Prongs."

"Oh, you were all friends of Harry's father? How long ago was this?"

"You know," Ginny said quickly, noting the growing disapproval in the Muggle's eyes at the obvious age difference. "I always thought age was but a number. After all, what young woman hasn't dreamed of an older man? They are usually more financially stable and much more experienced in the ways of…love," she said, batting her eyes innocently at the captivated man.

"Yes…well…there's something to be said for youth," he replied, throwing her a smile.

Ginny smiled back, leaning into Harry's arms.

"True. There's no denying that, either."

Hermione held back laughter at the surprised look on Hayden's face by Ginny's brilliant turn-around. Then he cleared his throat, smiling warmly at Hermione.

"Well, I best get to my own table. Thanks for putting me with 'Thena, by the way, _Herms_," he said, arching an unamused eyebrow at his cousin.

She smiled brightly.

"You're welcome!" He rolled his eyes and she chuckled. "Look, don't be too horrid to her, alright? I know she's a little trying but I have a feeling my mum is going to go out of her senses fairly soon if something goes wrong. She's wound tighter than a spring tonight."

"Alright. I'll see you after dinner, yeah?" Hermione nodded and he walked away.

"Blimey, 'Mione, are you related to the _entire_ Spanish Inquisition or just the interrogators?" Ron asked, having remained silent next to an amused Luna during the discussion.

Hermione chuckled.

"One of the reasons Hayden and I get along so well is that he has an insatiable curiosity. He plans on becoming an oncologist…to study and treat cancer…and I truly believe he has the capability to really make a difference. Unfortunately, he has a voracious appetite for knowledge and that causes him to ask a lot of questions, which, of course, we don't really want right now."

"Rather inventive answers, though," Harry said with a grin. "Tell me, Sirius…what was it like, serving in the Queen's Army?"

Everyone laughed.

"I suppose we should be happy that these Muggles don't know the _real_ you, Sirius," Tonks said laughingly. "Because the idea of _you_ in the Army is absolutely ridiculous."

"It's not _totally_ ridiculous," Sirius said hotly. "After all, I _was_ an Auror before they chucked me into Azkaban."

"And if I remember correctly," Lupin said mildly. "Moody was beside himself with utter frustration as you and James terrorized the department."

Sirius grinned mischievously.

"He was just sore 'cuz we got the better of him once. Took his wooden leg when he wasn't looking. Constant vigilance my arse."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna all burst into laughter and Lupin chuckled at the memory. Tonks just rolled her eyes, trying to be respectful of her mentor, but eventually even she cracked a smile at the idea of Moody yelling after a young Sirius and James while hopping on one foot.

"What's all the excitement over here?" a voice said and both Sirius and Hermione cringed as Athena plopped herself down next to Lupin.

"Er…this is my cousin Athena," Hermione said to the rest of the table. "Athena, this is Harry, Ginny, Ron, Luna, Tonks, and Remus."

Lupin arched an eyebrow at Sirius, clearly appreciative of the woman's beauty, but Sirius gave his friend a long look that stated quite clearly that she was _definitely_ not worth the effort.

"I've noticed a lot of people here have extraordinary names. I met a bloke named Kingsley Shacklebolt and I thought he was having me on. So what type of name is 'Tonks' then?"

"A surname," the now turquoise-haired witch said, unimpressed. "And I suppose 'Athena' comes from Greek mythology?"

"Yup. The Greek goddess of wisdom."

"That's a bit of false advertising," Ginny mumbled and Hermione once again fought to keep a straight face.

"So…Remus, is it?" Athena said, glancing seductively at the handsome man beside her. "How do you fit into this merry troupe?"

Sirius saw Hermione's jaw tense and he shot his friend a look of warning. They may no longer be together, but he knew the last thing Hermione needed was to watch her ex-lover flirt with her cousin. Judging by Lupin's discreet glance at Hermione, Sirius could tell his friend sensed he needed to tread softly.

"Sirius is my best friend," he said to her. "And Hermione is a very close friend as well."

"Really? How long have you known her?"

"About eight years. We met when she was at school. I was one of her professors."

"Oh, so you're a teacher," she said, the sparkle immediately leaving her eyes and Hermione knew that Athena had done a mental count of a teacher's annual salary and realized he wouldn't be able to provide her with jewelry and luxuries like most of her boyfriends.

"He's one of the _best_ professors I've ever had," Hermione said, rubbing Lupin's thigh under the table and receiving a look of smoldering passion from the werewolf's amber-tinted gray eyes. Sirius couldn't help but wonder if she was referring to other, decidedly _non_-professorial lessons he might have taught her.

Athena didn't seem to notice as she sent a dazzling smile to Harry.

"How about you? How do you know the…_happy couple_?"

"Harry, Ron, and I are her best friends," Ginny said, holding Harry's hand with her left one so the obscenely large engagement ring caught the light. For the briefest of seconds, Athena turned her attention to Ron, but Ginny must have kicked her staring brother because he quickly wrapped his arm around Luna, who also sported her engagement ring prominently.

"Oh Athena, there you are," Helen suddenly said, coming over to the table. "Your mother is looking for you because they're about to serve dinner. This is the wedding party's table and you're currently in someone's seat."

Sirius suddenly felt a surge of affection for his future mother-in-law as the older woman mouthed an apology to Hermione while Athena rose reluctantly, casting a final look at Sirius as if to suggest that he could come with her if he wanted. When he didn't respond, she sighed and followed Helen over to her assigned table.

Her seat and the empty one next to it were immediately filled by two mutinous-looking Weasley twins, who were going to be ushers at the wedding. Twin sets of blue eyes were shooting daggers at Hermione.

"You have no idea how _impotent_ you have made us!" Fred hissed.

"Unmanned and completely powerless in this _ideal_ situation," George added.

"I can't believe you, 'Mione."

"How could you?"

"After all, - "

" – it's in the pursuit of knowledge!"

"What _are_ they on about?" Ginny asked the amused brunette.

"I confiscated their wands and took all their supplies from their pockets before they could pull any pranks on our unsuspecting guests," Hermione explained. "They had quite the variety of items, including some Giggling Gum Drops and Fainting Fancies. I wouldn't have put it passed them to try them out on my poor school friends."

"Never!"

"Wouldn't dream of it!"

Sirius chuckled.

"Boys, as amusing as it would be to see you try your delights on unsuspecting Muggles, I'm afraid I must agree with Hermione. It's too risky."

"Traitor," George muttered.

Hermione laughed, shaking her head. Pulling out her purse, she opened it and withdrew two wands. Looking warily at the eager faces, she started to hand them over before pulling back slightly with a look of warning on her face.

"There is only one Muggle you're allowed to wreak havoc on," she said. "That one over there, in the inappropriately tight blue dress. That's my cousin Athena and you are welcome to prank her and her alone. Understood?"

The boys nodded in unison and Hermione handed the wands back.

"Oh old friend," George said to his wand dramatically. "How I've missed you."

"We shall never be parted again, my love," Fred crooned.

"Oh please," Ron scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Seconds later, Ron let out a yelp as one or both of the twins hit him with a hex under the table.

He scowled.

"Hermione said you could only hex Athena," he said accusingly.

"No, dear brother. She said the only _Muggle_ we could prank was Athena. You, little bro, are not a Muggle, despite your thick-headedness sometimes," Fred said, a gleam of malice in his eyes.

"Boys," Hermione warned. "Don't push it."

Both twins settled immediately and Sirius glanced at Hermione in wonder at how she was able to control them so easily. He felt his loins stir immediately as he saw the fierce look on her face. Giving her a thorough once-over, he tried not to groan as he watched her breasts heave. She glanced at him and arched her eyebrow at the lustful glint in his eyes. Leaning over to him, he felt her breath near his ear.

"You look like you're thinking some very naughty thoughts, Mr. Black," she teased. "Care to share with the rest of the class?"

"I'm afraid of what my godson would do to me if I verbalized the thoughts running through my head, kitten," he breathed, his fingers drawing involuntarily-sensual circles on her chiffon-covered thigh.

"Hmm…" she purred and the sound shot straight to his growing erection. "You better make damn sure you keep that infamous lack of self-control at bay, Sirius. You wouldn't want to ruin the fun of our wedding night."

She ran her hand up his inner thigh, grinning as she grazed his erection.

"Down boy," she whispered before nipping his earlobe.

"If you two don't mind," Tonks said, amusement etched on her face. "I believe they're about to serve the first course."

As much as he tried, Sirius could not keep his eyes off Hermione as they ate. He knew she was being indecently appreciative of her food on purpose, because _no one_ licked a spoon _quite_ that thoroughly normally, and from the steady blush that was creeping up Ron, Harry, Lupin, and the twins' faces, Sirius also knew he wasn't the only man who noticed. After Lupin shifted in his chair and crossed his legs for the fifth time, Sirius couldn't take it anymore.

"Outside. Now," he growled in her ear.

Smirking, Hermione excused them and dutifully followed him out of the restaurant.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

She arched an eyebrow.

"In general, or do you have a specific time frame you're referring to?"

"Inside, just now."

"I was eating, Sirius."

"You weren't just eating."

She couldn't help the slow smirk that crept to her lips.

"I didn't realize you were paying such close attention."

"Of course I was! It was hard _not_ to! Did you notice how many times Remus had to cross his legs?"

"No. But I noticed how many times _you_ had to."

He growled again, pulling her flush up to his body and catching her by surprise.

"Keep up that behavior," he whispered, pressing his hips against hers so she could feel _exactly_ what she was doing to him. "And we won't make it another two weeks before I pin you to the closest available surface and have my way with you."

"But Sirius," she said in mock innocence. "What would everybody think? I mean, if you were to take me in the middle of our engagement party…well…I think my parents would be quite displeased."

She smirked and he narrowed his eyes.

"I think you know _exactly_ what you do to me, little witch," he said, his lips mere millimeters from hers. "And I can't wait to teach you a lesson on what happens when you tease a man to his limits."

She gave a breathy laugh.

"You're so confident that you can handle me, Sirius. It's sweet."

"Wanna prove me wrong?"

She bit her lip playfully, pulling back from his descending lips.

"I quite like to prolong the inevitable. After all, why ruin the delicious torture of anticipation?"

She smirked, pulling away from him and starting towards the door when a male voice Sirius didn't recognize spoke from behind them:

"Leaving him so unsatisfied, baby doll? Now…that's not the Hermione Jane Granger _I_ know."


	12. Chapter 12: An Emotional Collision

**A/N:** A lot of you accurately speculated that the last line of the last chapter was delivered by Hermione's child-molesting neighbor. This chapter introduces the horrendous character. Thank you to **Justice's Quill** for coming up with the name for the first important OC in this story.

PLEASE READ AND REVIEW!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: An Emotional Collision**

"_Leaving him so unsatisfied, baby doll? Now…that's not the Hermione Jane Granger __I__ know."_

Hermione froze.

It was a voice that had haunted her nightmares since the age of six, when a man she had trusted had shattered her world. She had not heard the voice in years, having avoided him entirely on the sporadic occasion she was anywhere near him. But he was there, just barely ten feet away, and she could feel fear and disgust creep through her body.

Sirius's brow furrowed as he watched Hermione react to the voice, and he turned to face the speaker.

The man was in his mid-forties. He was tall and trim, good-looking by most standards, well-dressed in an expensive Muggle suit and leaning casually against a gleaming silver Mercedes. As he stepped into the light, Sirius took in the chiseled face and cold, sneering brown eyes. Those eyes were fixed on Hermione's back and as Sirius turned back to look at her, there was a tension in her shoulders he had never seen before.

"Imagine my surprise," the man said, taking a step towards them. "When Miss Miller from next door told me that little Hermione Granger was getting married and celebrating her engagement here, in Haslemere. I assume, of course, that my invitation was lost in the mail."

Hermione turned and Sirius saw her shaking.

"I would invite you to hell," she spat, taking a step back towards the door.

"Now now, baby doll, no need for hostility."

And all of a sudden, Sirius knew who the man was.

"Leave," he growled at the man, stepping between Hermione and her tormentor as blind rage started to fill him. "You best back away _very_ quickly from my fiancée."

"Ah yes," the Muggle said, and had Hermione's hand not stopped him, Sirius would have lunged at him to wipe the smirk off his face. "You must be her husband-to-be. I don't believe we've been formally introduced. My name is Swan. Nicolas Swan."

He extended his hand but Sirius glared at it.

"I couldn't give a shit what your name is, you disgusting piece of shit. Leave…_now_."

"No need for aggression. We're all civilized adults here."

"Civilized?!" Hermione shouted, stepping around Sirius to give the man a murderous look. "Is that what you tell yourself to go to sleep at night? That what you did to me was _civilized_?"

"My my, Hermione, I almost forgot how ravishing you look when you're angry."

Sirius's hand was around Nicolas's neck before the man could take another step forward.

"I should kill you right now," Sirius breathed. "I should string you up and kick the living shit out of you, you useless waste of space. But for the sake of my fiancée I will just issue this one warning: you lay one hand on her, or come within one hundred yards of her, of if I even catch you _breathing_ in her general direction, that breath will be your last."

"Are you threatening me?" Nicolas croaked, his hands trying to remove himself from Sirius's iron-clad grip. "I'm a solicitor, mate. This is assault. I'll have your arse in court so fast you won't know what hit you."

Sirius leaned in close.

"Do I honestly look like a man intimidated by the idea of prison?"

Nicolas sneered.

"When I'm done with you, they'll lock you up and throw away the key."

"With _your_ history, they'd give me a fucking medal. I'm doing a public service."

"Oh yeah? Well, tell me this: if you're so bloody noble, why were you pawing her outside where no one could see? What does that make _you_?"

"I _chose_ him, you scum-sucking arsehole," Hermione seethed. "And I don't _mind_ him touching me. In face, after enduring an impotent excuse of a man like you, I _relish_ his touch."

"You loved every minute of it, you little slut. You were wet for me every time…"

Sirius's wand was at his throat in an instant.

"Give me a reason," he growled. "I dare you."

Nicolas laughed.

"What are you going to do? Give me splinters?"

Sirius dug the wand into the man's neck harder, willing all of his self-control against the overwhelming urge to kill him, but Hermione's hand on his forearm stopped him.

"Don't," she whispered. "Don't give them a reason to chuck you into Azkaban again."

Sirius glared at the man for a long moment before pushing him forcefully away. Nicolas stumbled but did not fall, and he straightened his clothes as Sirius tucked his wand away. Sirius then turned toward the restaurant, his hand settled lightly on the small of Hermione's back to place himself between her and Nicolas.

"Let's go inside," he whispered to her, and she nodded silently in response.

"Pussy-whipped already?" Nicolas called maliciously. "How does it feel, mate, knowing that I stroked that beautiful cunt first? That I touched her tight, hot young body before you?"

Sirius spun around but Hermione was faster. She flew at Nicolas, her fist making contact with his jaw so hard that Sirius could hear the bones crunch. The man fell to the ground, grasping his jaw, but Hermione did not let him recover as she started kicking him repeatedly in the head.

"You…disgusting…perverted…pedophilic…son…of…a…bitch!" she screamed as she kicked him over and over again. Sirius grabbed her around the waist, dragging her away from the man as she struggled.

"Don't touch me! _Don't touch me!_"

Sirius let her go just as Lupin appeared at the door. Hermione gave a dry sob, running into his arms.

"What the fuck did you do to her?!" Lupin shouted at Sirius, one arm wrapped around the trembling young witch as the other trained his wand upon his best friend. The fire in Lupin's eyes made Sirius raise his hands in surrender.

"It wasn't me, Remus, I swear to God," he said, pointing to the bloodied, unconscious man on the ground. "He was standing out here waiting for her."

Lupin looked at Nicolas, then at Sirius, then at Hermione.

"'Mione, baby…what happened?" he asked her softly, pushing a loose curl from her pale face.

"He…he was here," she whispered. "He was here and he was saying things and...and...I snapped. Oh God, did I kill him?"

Sirius walked over to the man and gingerly felt for a pulse. It was there and he was breathing, albeit somewhat laboriously.

"You didn't kill him," Sirius said. "Unfortunately."

"What the hell is going on?" a voice asked and the three turned to see Harry, Ron, and Ginny at the door.

"You three," Lupin said, a note of authority in his voice. "I need you to go and get the Grangers, Kingsley, Minerva, and Poppy."

He gave them a cold look that left no room for discussion and the three scampered off quickly. Sirius slowly approached Hermione.

"'Mione," he said, stopping as she cringed. "I'm not going to hurt you, sweetheart."

She gave a shuddering breath.

"I know. I'm sorry," she said softly, taking his outstretched hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Sirius glanced at Lupin. The werewolf's nostrils were flared and his eyes a bright golden hue as they stared unblinkingly at the prone man on the ground. Hermione clung to him, her head buried in his broad chest. The look in her eyes unnerved Sirius. She was not crying but instead there was an empty, dead look in her eyes and her cheeks had gone ghostly pale. There was a vulnerability about her that he had never seen and it scared him.

"Remus, what…oh my God, Hermione," Helen said, seeing Nicolas's unconscious form and the look on her daughter's terror-stricken face.

"What happened?" Daniel asked, following his wife outside, but upon seeing Nicolas he went purple. "Why that…I'll kill him! I'll kill him!"

He rushed for him but Sirius caught him, holding the enraged man back.

"Mr. Granger, stop," he shouted firmly, throwing all his weight against him. "There's nothing you can do now."

"I can kill him! Why didn't you protect her? Why didn't you stop him?!" the older man roared, still struggling against Sirius.

"I tried, Mr. Granger. Merlin help me, I tried. I almost killed him myself."

"Good God, she was just a child! How could he…What type of man…Why couldn't you…Why couldn't _I_ protect her?"

There was a sudden weakness to him and Sirius knew he wasn't the one being addressed anymore. Guilt and grief were etched on Daniel's face as desperate, angry tears streamed from his hazel eyes. He clung to Sirius now, though his eyes did not leave the body of the unconscious man.

"I couldn't hold her for a year," he whispered. "I couldn't hug my little girl because of that…that _monster._"

"You didn't know," Sirius said, trying to reassure the man. "You couldn't have known."

"I _should have_ known!" Daniel shouted. "I should've seen how she…every time she came home…how could I keep sending her _back_ to him?!"

"Daddy…" Hermione said softly, pulling away from her mother's arms and rushing over to her father. "Daddy, it's not your fault."

Sirius stepped back, giving the family space. Receiving a grateful smile from Daniel, who now held his daughter in his arms, Sirius nodded to the man before heading over to Lupin, Kingsley, Ron, Harry, and Ginny. Ginny's eyes were blazing bright as she squared off with an increasingly-impatient Lupin.

"I want to know what the fuck is going on and I want to know _now_!" she shouted, throwing off Harry's soothing arm. "Who is this man?"

"That is not your concern right now," Lupin said, his eyes equally as bright.

"Bullshit! She's a complete wreck and there is a man who is covered in blood and unconscious in the middle of the fucking parking lot! This is _everyone's_ concern."

"Go inside, Ginevra," Lupin said softly, though the tone of his voice was dangerous.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me…"

"Ginny, not now," Ron pleaded with his sister. "Please. She'll tell you when…"

"You _know_?!" she roared, spinning accusingly to her brother. "You know and you didn't tell us?!"

"Ginny," Kingsley said in his smooth yet authoritative voice. "You, Harry, and Ron need to go inside and keep the other guests entertained. Please let us deal with this. Now is not the time for hysterics."

"Hysterics?!" she screamed, but one long look from Kingsley quieted her, her jaw clenched in explosive anger as she allowed Harry and Ron to lead her back inside.

"He's alive," Professor McGonagall said from where she and Madame Pomfrey were tending the fallen man. "I've managed to modify his memory to think he's been in a mugging but Poppy says he needs to go to a hospital."

"He needs to go to the morgue," Lupin muttered savagely.

"I'll take him," Kingsley said calmly. "Minerva, you see to Hermione and Grangers. Lupin, you and Sirius go back inside and see what you can do about the guests."

"No," Hermione said, pulling away from her parents' embrace. "Take him to the hospital, fine, but we are going to continue this evening as though nothing happened. Give me just a few minutes to collect myself and I'll be right in."

"'Mione…" Sirius started, but she shot him a cold look that shut him up.

"I refuse to be a victim," she said. "That's how he wins."

And she straightened her back before walking into the restaurant.

Lupin looked at Sirius.

"And here you thought your biggest worry tonight would be meeting her family," he cracked wryly.

Sirius chuckled in spite of himself and led the rest of the group inside.

***

After the excitement of the engagement party, Hermione really had no choice but to tell the rest of the Order what had happened in during her childhood, as most of them had been there and had heard one form or another of the incident. As she expected, there was a mass uproar of righteous anger, led by the ever-predictable Molly Weasley. Once Hermione had stated, under no uncertain terms, that nothing was to be done about it, however, the meeting dispersed, leaving the inhabitants of Grimmauld Place and the seething Weasley twins in the kitchen.

"That bastard should rot in Hell!" Ginny stated angrily for the fifth time, almost spilling her mug of tea.

"True, but I will not be a party to his imminent demise," Hermione replied.

"We have ways of making him suffer," Fred said darkly.

"Virtually undetectable," George added.

"He won't even think of touching you again."

"Or anyone else, for that matter."

"As noble as those sentiments are, boys, my answer is still 'no'. And I would please ask you to respect my wishes."

Harry looked at her, the expression on his face unreadable. He had been the only one, other than Snape, that hadn't completely exploded once Hermione had finished her story. Though Hermione mirthlessly thought that Ginny had done enough overreacting for the both of them, it still bothered her that he hadn't said a word to her.

"Harry?" she asked softly as he continued to look at her. "Please say something."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice heavy. "Why didn't you trust me?"

"It has nothing to do with trust, Harry. There was just…never a reason for you to know."

"You told Ron," he said and she could see his building anger behind his emerald eyes. "And you told Lupin. Fuck, 'Mione, you told _Sirius_ before me!"

"To be fair to her, Harry, she didn't actually tell me directly. Ron and Remus told me," Sirius corrected.

"Whatever, the point is you knew before I did. I'm her best friend!"

"Yes, but Harry…they _had_ to know. Sirius and I are getting married, so he had the right to know. I told Ron and Remus because…well…Ron needed to understand why his singing affected me and Remus…well, aside from the fact that we were sleeping together, Remus _saw_ Nicolas."

"Don't you think you should have told me before _we_ slept together?" Harry shouted, ignoring the fact that he was announcing that piece of information to a roomful of people who hadn't known, one of which was his fiancée and her best girl friend.

"What?" Ginny said quietly.

Hermione cringed as realization dawned on Harry. Horror-struck, he turned to face Ginny but she wouldn't look at him. Instead, her eyes were on Hermione. The warm, friendly brown were now filled with sadness and betrayal, causing Hermione's heart to break.

"When was this?" Ginny asked.

"Sixth year. Just before Christmas," Hermione replied.

"So…when I asked you if anything had ever happened between you and Harry," she said, emotion in her voice. "When I asked you, right before Harry and I got together…"

"I lied," Hermione admitted freely, though not without remorse. "You have to understand why, though…"

"You looked me in the eye," Ginny interrupted, a tear running down her face. "And you _swore_ that he was like a brother to you."

"He _is_ like a brother to me! Ginny, please…"

"_You don't fuck your brother!_" Ginny shouted. "And you don't lie to his girlfriend, his _future wife_, about it!"

"What possible good would it have done?" Hermione asked, irrational anger rising within her. "It was _once_, and we both knew it couldn't happen again, _especially_ since he was and still _is_ head over heels in love with _you_! It would have made you suspicious of everything he and I ever did together!"

"I've _always_ been suspicious!" she screamed. "I was always waiting for the moment when he would look at you and see what every other man sees when they look at you. But I was always confident in the knowledge that _you_, my _best friend_, would never betray me like that. That you'd never touch him."

"And I never did! It was one night, Ginny. You were with Dean and we were both lonely and it happened. But it _never_ happened again, on that you _have_ to believe me!"

"How can I trust you? Either of you?"

She looked at Harry, whose gazed was fixed ashamedly on the counter. Taking a deep breath, she spoke:

"You were my first, Harry," she said softly. "Now be honest and tell me truthfully…who was yours?"

Harry closed his eyes for a moment before looking at Ginny.

"Hermione," he whispered.

Hermione closed her eyes, refusing to look at all the faces that were turned toward her. Everything was crumbling around her and if there were ever an appropriate moment to cry, that would be it. But she couldn't. Not a drop.

"Ginny," she pleaded, opening her eyes to look at the crestfallen witch. "I'm sorry. Please."

Nostrils flaring, tears falling, Ginny shook her head in confusion.

"I don't…I can't…I…I need some air," she said before standing and fleeing the room. Harry went to follow her but Sirius stopped him.

"Let her go," he said. "Let her cool off."

Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair before looking at Hermione coldly.

"Wood was right, you know," he said. "Nothing is ever simple with you. Ever."

"Now wait a minute," Lupin said. "Just because you had to be a prat and spill the beans doesn't mean…"

"Lupin, you lost all votes of righteous indignation the moment you started fucking her," Harry interrupted coolly. "So do us a favor and stay out of it."

"Harry, that's not fair," Hermione said softly, seeing the hurt in Lupin's face. "You know it was never like that with Remus and I."

"I honestly don't know what to think anymore, Hermione," he replied, his eyes blazing. "For God's sake, you were molested as a child and when you became old enough to actually control your own sexuality, you run straight into the arms of a man the same age as your molester? What twisted logic does _that_ stem from?"

"Don't you _dare_ compare me to him," Lupin growled, the wolf leaping to the surface as he jumped to his feet and squared off against the younger man. "I love Hermione and I _never_ forced her into anything she didn't want to do and if I thought I could _I_ would be the one marrying her instead of watching her bind herself to my best friend, _your_ godfather, who _also_ happens to be the same age as her molester! So don't talk to me about righteous indignation, Potter, because you are out of your league."

"Oh yeah?" Harry fumed. "It must have given you such a _thrill_, a young girl interested in you once more. How long did it take for you to fuck her, Lupin? A day? A week? How much self-control did you possess before you started sleeping with a girl young enough to be your own daughter?"

"You little…"

"Stop it!" Hermione shouted, standing. "Harry, I thank you for dredging up my sexual history, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you what happened when I was a child but quite frankly I don't think anyone here can fault me for keeping you out of the loop, judging from your less-than-stellar reaction."

"If I had known, I would have _never_ allowed you to date Lupin!" Harry shouted.

"Who says you have a vote?!" Lupin snarled.

"_Enough!_" Sirius shouted, standing and stepping between the two men. "We have enough hate and loathing in this world. We don't need to bring it in here."

Hermione looked from Harry to Lupin to Sirius. She felt a headache coming on and she shook her head at them before turning and walking out of the kitchen.

She had been in her room for two minutes before Lupin walked in.

"I know you want me to apologize," he said as he watched her pace. "But I'm not sorry."

She looked at him.

"Remus, Sirius and I have to go looking for a flat today," she said. "And as soon as we find one, we have to move in together. And after we move in together, we have get _married_, after which we have to have _sex_, and depending on how long the Goddamn law is in place, we might have to have _children_ together, and I _can't_ go through with all of that knowing that you're in love with me."

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes glowing with frustration.

"Fuck, 'Mione, what do you want me to say?" he asked. "You want me to stand here and keep lying to you like I have for the past three years?"

"Yes!" she shouted. "Lie to me, Remus! Tell me it's not true."

"Well I can't!" he shouted back. "I love you, Hermione. I've been in love with you for three years now and the more I watch you and Sirius together the more I realize that I _can't_ love you and it's fucking _killing_ me."

She walked over to him and slapped him hard.

"You are so selfish," she said as he looked at her in shock and anger. "For three years you had those feelings, knowing I could never return them. You kept _lying_ to me. You kept coming to my bed telling me you were fine with the arrangement, that you _weren't_ in love with me and now, when I need a friend more than ever, I turn to you and find a fucking _pining_ lover that makes me feel guilty every time I look at him…Jesus Christ, Remus, why didn't you stop it before it got this far?"

"Because I never thought it would get to a situation like this!" he cried. "I never thought I'd have to watch you marry another man for the sake of the fucking Ministry of Magic! I just thought that we could go on as we were and one day you would realize that you love me too, and I'm _still_ not entirely sure that you don't!"

"Neither am I!"

The statement echoed in the small room as they stared at each other in stunned silence.

"What?" he whispered.

She sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I don't know, Remus. I tried to just imagine you as a…well, a friend with benefits. But…you've seen me at my best and at my worst and you've _always_ been there for me. A girl could get used to that. And yet…I don't know. We are good together, both physically and mentally, but there's something missing. Maybe I've just read too many Muggle romances but…I don't feel a spark or a jolt when I look at you. Attraction, yes, and perhaps even a bit naughty, but no shooting passion. And while I know we would have a happy future together, I can't help but think it might get a little…dull."

"Dull?" he said with a slight chuckle. "With friends like Harry and Sirius? I hardly think it's likely."

She smiled sadly.

"No. I mean _us_. You and me. We're compatible, yes, but we're too alike. I need some argument. I need some discord. I need to have a fight every once in awhile about something stupid _just_ to have amazing make-up sex. I need…"

"You need Sirius."

Hermione frowned slightly.

"I…no. No, I just need…"

"Sirius," Lupin repeated. "Like it or not, 'Mione, you just described what a marriage to Sirius would be like. Trust me."

"Remus, trust _me_. If I can't convince myself to fall totally in love with _you_, I _definitely_ won't fall in love with Sirius."

He smiled sadly.

"Many a witch before you has fallen captive to his charm, love. You wouldn't be the first."

"I won't be _at all_."

He sighed, taking a step toward her and cupping her defiant face in his warm hands.

"I love you so much it hurts sometimes," he whispered. "I get a jolt every time I look at you. I feel complete when I'm with you. And you have no idea how much I wish I was the man you needed."

She sighed, shaking her head.

"You should have stopped this before I hurt you."

"Call me a masochist, but I loved every bloody minute of it," he breathed before catching her lips with his.

She knew he was trying to show her that she could love him; that they _could_ live as lovers while she was married to Sirius and that they _could_ have a future together once she was free of the marriage law. But she knew she couldn't. Not any of it. Not with him.

A knock on the door interrupted the kiss before it went any further and Lupin sighed in frustration as Hermione pulled away from him.

Ginny greeted her from the other side.

"Ginny, I…"

The redhead put her hand up.

"I know why you didn't tell me," she said. "But I wish you had. You broke my trust, 'Mione, and that's going to take awhile to heal. Just know that I forgive you, because you never lied to me before and I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you haven't lied to me since."

Hermione gave a small smile.

"I don't think you have to worry about Harry and me anymore. I highly doubt he is ever going to speak to me again."

"He will. And if he doesn't, Ron'll have something to say about it. Fred and George told me he exploded at Harry after you left the kitchen."

"Glad to know I haven't managed to lose _all_ my friends at once."

Ginny sighed.

"You're our sister in all but blood, Hermione. We might get mad…livid, even…but we still love you. You're entirely too precious to us."

"Thanks Ginny."

She smiled.

"Sirius also asked me to tell you he's ready if you are. You're going house-hunting today, right?"

"Yes. Wanna come?"

Ginny shook her head.

"I have practice. But I expect to be the first one you give a tour to."

Hermione laughed.

"Done." She paused, biting her lip. "Is it too early to hug you?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and enveloped the sheepish brunette in a hug.

"Consider yourself lucky," she murmured. "If you were anyone else I would have hexed the shit out of you."

Hermione chuckled.

"Duly noted."

Pulling back, Ginny kissed Hermione gently on the cheek and walked back down the stairs. Turning, Hermione saw Lupin watching her, a small smile on his face.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I will never understand the inner workings of the female mind."

She laughed.

"I think that's the beauty of it. We are creatures of mystery."

"Indeed you are." Then he sighed and his eyes darkened slightly. "Well, better not keep your _fiancé_ waiting."

She didn't miss the bitterness in his tone, and she sighed.

"Don't do that," she said. "Don't end this on a bad note."

He narrowed his eyes.

"It's a bit naïve to assume this would end on a good note."

She sighed again.

"I thought it had. Two weeks ago."

He sighed.

"Yeah, well…" He trailed off and she looked up into his eyes.

"I never meant to hurt you, Remus."

He sighed again.

"No…no, I pretty much did that on my own, didn't I?"

He took her hand in his, pressing his lips to her wrist.

"If Sirius is ever an arse…which, be forewarned, is entirely within the realm of possibility…I am always here for you. Always."

"Thank you."

With a final, lingering look, he walked out, leaving her heart heavy with the good-bye she had wanted to avoid so badly when she had crept out of his room that last night they had spent together.

But of course, as two men in her life had already stated, she wasn't simple. Ever.

Collecting herself, Hermione took a few long, deep breaths, willing the mask she had long-since perfected. It was a mask very few could see through, the only exceptions having been Harry, her parents, and Dumbledore. With Harry not talking to her, her parents far away in Hampshire, and Dumbledore dead, Hermione thought she was in no danger of being discovered as she descended the stairs.

"Are you alright?" Sirius immediately asked worriedly.

She let out a laugh, her face a mask of wry humor.

"Remus's heartbroken, Ginny doesn't trust me, and Harry's not speaking to me. Wanna ask that question again?"

She expected him to chuckle and go along with her, but he surprised her by frowning slightly.

"I can reschedule with the realtor, 'Mione. It wouldn't be a problem."

Her grin faltered as she got the odd feeling that she wasn't fooling him. Deciding to drop the act for fear of unwittingly letting him in even more, she shook her head with a sigh.

"No, the change of scene will do me good."

Nodding slightly, Sirius held out her coat for her before putting his hand comfortingly on the small of her back, leading her out of the house. Neither he nor Hermione noticed a pair of amber eyes watching them silently, nor did they see the tear that ran down the handsomely-scarred face as the eyes disappeared behind a bedroom door.


	13. Chapter 13: A Player in a Role

**A/N:** Another chapter! Yay! I'm feeling quite good about this fic at the moment, which means that more writing is getting done. Again...Yay!

Thanks to **FaithfulHPReader** for naming important OC numero 2!

Read and Review Please!

**Chapter Thirteen: A Player in a Role**

The sun was high over them as they apparated to Diagon Alley, feeling the sudden, unexpected heat despite the late October date. Hermione didn't say anything as she and Sirius walked down a series of alleys, not paying much attention to where she was going as her mind was fixed on the morning.

Harry, seething with anger and betrayal as he launched an attack of words that could never be unspoken, revealing things that could never be hidden again, and almost destroying a decade's worth of female camaraderie.

Ginny, blissfully forgiving and yet farther away than she had ever been before.

Remus, heart shattered, watching in silent agony as the only thing he had ever really wanted was suddenly the only thing he couldn't ever have.

Sirius, who could see through her mask of calm in a way that no man ever could.

It was Sirius's concern that unnerved her the most. Harry would get over it, eventually. She and Ginny would regroup and heal. Remus, though devastated, would recover. But Sirius now held the keys to the heavily-guarded fortress that had surrounded her heart for years. He had seen through her so quickly that she could feel the fortress start to crack at the force of his penetrating gaze.

He had been stealing glimpses of her all morning. First in the meeting, then during the fight, and now as they were walking down the cobblestone streets. The look on his face – his damn apprehension at her confident assurances – scared her.

And she hated being scared.

Hermione was so caught in her own thoughts that she did not notice the pair of steel-gray eyes that had watched with sneering fascination for several minutes. Nor did she notice, until it was too late, the owner of the cold eyes step into her path just seconds before she plowed into him.

"Oof," she groaned as she stumbled back, and Sirius caught her before she fell to the ground.

"Why Miss Granger," Lucius Malfoy's silky yet sickening voice crooned. "Fancy meeting you here."

Sirius placed himself between Hermione and the smirking dark wizard.

"Walk away, Lucius," he said firmly. "No one wants a scene."

"Indeed not," Lucius drawled. "Though it is my understanding that Miss Granger just can't get away from them, if her behavior in a certain fitting room yesterday is any indication."

Hermione paled but tried to retain her mask of control. She could see the surprise and confusion flicker through Sirius's face as he, once again, read through her. Luckily, though, Lucius had no such insight and continued to stare Hermione down, hoping she could give something away.

"I have no idea what you're referring to, Lucius, but I'd thank you to come to whatever point you obviously intend to belabor considering my _fiancé_ and I have other plans this afternoon," Hermione said coolly, refusing to give away an iota of emotion to the infuriating pureblood.

"It was my understanding that you engaged in a little…shall we say…_extracurricular_ activity with a man who was _not_ your intended yesterday."

Hermione arched an eyebrow as she prayed Sirius's slow realization would not give her away.

"Are you suggesting that I am cheating on my fiancé, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Well…it certainly is behavior we come to expect from _your_ kind."

"From _my_ kind? And I suppose your dalliances with the less-than-savory witches of Knockturn Alley is the shining example all wizards should set their behavior by?"

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Your insinuations are dangerous, Miss Granger."

"As are yours, Mr. Malfoy. So unless you have proof of this alleged indiscretion, I suggest you go on your way and leave us to our afternoon."

The two glared at each other before Sirius, who had been distracted by his own inner contemplation, came to his senses and stepped between them, shooting Lucius a haughty, arrogant look.

"Lucius," he said and Hermione shuddered slightly as she recognized the aristocratic lilt Sirius used. She knew he meant it in irony but that knowledge did not lessen the effect it had on her nerves. "My fiancée does not need to _dally_ outside our bed. She is quite satisfied with the wizard she has, thank you very much. So your accusations are as much my insult as hers and I do not take kindly to being insulted."

"A thousand apologies, Mr. Black," Lucius said, bowing low in mockery. "I was just under the impression that you assumed Miss Granger's…_purity_…and I wouldn't want a fellow pureblood to be embarrassed by a misleading Mudblood."

Sirius gave an arrogant smirk to the blond.

"I have an _intimate_ knowledge of Miss Granger's purity, Lucius. Unlike you, I have the self-control to satisfy without breaching her innocence."

The two wizards stared each other down before Lucius nodded curtly, turning on his heel and walking away.

Sirius turned to Hermione immediately.

"I'm sorry, I had to," he said before she had a chance to reproach him. "I know you probably feel degraded but I honestly…"

"Sirius," she said, pausing him with a slight smile. "I highly doubt he would have let us go if you hadn't played along. I appreciate the position you were in. Really." To reassure him, she took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

He smiled slightly.

"He's a piece of work, isn't he?" Sirius said, continuing to hold her hand as they continued down the alley and Hermione had to wonder at the ease she felt at the contact.

"He's absolutely horrid. It almost makes me feel bad for Draco." Sirius arched his eyebrow at her and she chuckled. "I said _almost_."

He smiled and they continued toward a friendly blue door at the end of the alleyway.

"Oh! Good afternoon, dears," a plump older woman, her light brown eyes twinkling merrily from behind a desk within the office. "I assume you are Henry's one o'clock appointment?"

"Yes ma'am," Sirius said with a smile. "Sirius Black."

Her eyes widened slightly as she took him in. Sirius was used to this reaction. Despite Harry's ability to get him a pardon in the two years he was trapped in the Veil, it did not stop the majority of the wizarding population from reacting with a small amount of trepidation.

Hermione noticed the reaction too, and stepped around Sirius to smile warmly at the anxious woman.

"And I'm Hermione Granger. His fiancée," she said.

The woman's face lightened considerably.

"Oh, of _course_, dear," she said, coming around the desk as quickly as her small legs could carry her to grip Hermione's hand. "It's so lovely to meet you. You're even prettier than your picture in the paper."

Hermione smiled, glancing reassuringly back to Sirius.

Sirius couldn't help but think, at that moment with the sun streaming through the window, catching the golden highlights in her thick curls and sweeping a beautiful glow over her ivory skin, that Hermione was the most beautiful witch he had laid eyes on. Her full lips were curved into the first sincere smile he had seen on her face in the past twenty-four hours and he willed his stomach from yet again turning somersaults in his body.

"Now now, Eleanor, Miss Granger doesn't need you to fawn over her," a deep, kindly voice said from around the corner of the office, and Sirius and Hermione looked in the direction to meet a pair of deep blue eyes that shone with a brilliance that they both found both soothing and familiar.

"I'm sorry, Henry, but it's not often that we have someone of such importance in our office," the woman said, hurrying back to her post behind her desk.

Henry chuckled.

"I apologize for my wife," he said to the pair with a smile. "She comes in to work on the weekends because she's been so restless now that she is finally retired. I regret we don't have sufficient business to amuse her here, but it is nice to have her around." He gave the blushing woman an adoring look before proffering his hand to Sirius and Hermione. "Henry Andrews. Welcome. You must be the future Mr. and Mrs. Black?"

"Yes," Sirius said with a smile, waiting as Hermione shook the older man's hand before following her with a shake of his own, immediately liking the man. His eyes were exceptionally kind, and the wrinkles around his eyes showed that he had enjoyed his life with many laughs.

"Congratulations. When's the happy day?"

"Two weeks from today."

"Wonderful." He turned to his wife. "In the unlikely event we have any other customers in today, please have them make an appointment." She nodded and he turned back to the couple. "Well, if you'll follow me to the conference room, we'll get cracking on the process of getting you a new home."

They followed him down the narrow hallway to a small room that seemed crowded by the large conference table. With a flick of his wand, however, the table shrank to something that gave them more space to maneuver around. As they sat, Henry summoned a stack of files from the top of a cabinet and divided them into three piles in front of them.

"I pulled all of the properties we have for sale and divided them here into three piles. I've always thought a process of elimination works best, because it seems that couples are much more knowledgeable in what they _don't_ want than in what they _do_ want." Chuckling to himself, Henry gestured to each pile. "Here, we have properties outside London, then our London properties, and finally, converted Muggle properties in London."

Hermione was slightly amused at how small the 'Muggle properties' pile was by comparison to the other two.

"I think we've decided to stay in London," Sirius said, glancing at Hermione for affirmation. "We both have friends and family around here."

"Alright. I am forced to warn you, however, that the real estate prices are much higher in London, especially if you require the space for a growing family."

While Hermione looked worriedly at Sirius, the handsome wizard simply smiled.

"I think we'll take our chances."

Sirius didn't miss the small smile that crossed Henry's face as he banished the 'outside London' pile away, shuffling the two remaining piles together before another flick of his wand had them back into three piles.

"As this is a purchase, would you like a flat, a townhouse, or something with a little greenery?"

Slowly, they worked their way through the piles and once Sirius had assured Henry that cost was no object, they had narrowed the field to half a dozen files. Smiling slightly to himself, Henry glanced through the files, pausing every few seconds to reacquaint himself with some of the properties. Then he glanced up at them and nodded.

"I'm just going to floo ahead to these properties and make sure they're ready to be shown. Won't be a moment," he said before walking out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Sirius turned to Hermione, who seemed lost in thought with an adorable little frown on her face.

"What's going through that abnormally-large brain of yours, kitten?" he asked with a smile.

Her frown deepened.

"All this…it's going to be awfully expensive, Sirius."

He rolled his eyes.

"I suppose it would do absolutely no good to remind you that I have a Gringotts vault full of gold just waiting to be spent, would it?"

"This is different than spending money on a ridiculously lavish wedding, Sirius. At least my parents are helping out with that, despite my consistent objections. But this is a _house_. It's a commitment. I think we _both_ should help out with this and I can't afford to live in some glamorous flat if I'm going to be paying half."

Sirius sighed.

"I suppose I should tell you, though your father told me not to," he said. "Your parents want to help purchase this house."

Her eyes widened.

"They do?"

He nodded.

"When we were getting ready to leave the party last night, your dad pulled me aside and told me that they had been putting money away for your first house and wanted to give it to us as a wedding present. I, of course, refused, but your father is almost as stubborn as you, kitten."

Hermione sat back in her chair, still in shock, before looking at him.

"How much?" she asked.

"Hermione…"

"How much, Sirius?"

He sighed again.

"Fifty thousand pounds."

She sat up straight.

"Fifty thousa…" she choked, her voice cutting out before she could finish. Her jaw had dropped and for a moment she was wide-eyed and silent, a fact that Sirius took complete advantage of as he pressed on.

"You may think me an idiotic playboy, but I actually _did_ read the Marriage Law," he said, ignoring the protest she was about to give as to her opinion of him. "And I think what they require of you is absolutely absurd, including but not limited to handing over all your earnings to me. So, I talked to Bill. He's set it up so that, upon our wedding when they transfer your money, it will get transferred into a…well, I suppose we'll call it a side account. You are the sole administrator of the account. I won't touch it. Of course, because Gringotts still listens to the Ministry, I had to call it an 'allowance' account, but I assure you, darling, it's all yours. As well as your parents generous gift."

"Sirius…"

"Don't argue," he said sternly. "It's cruel how this law is turning you into nothing more than my dependent. I respect you, Hermione, and find your _independence_ to be one of the best things about you. Therefore, I made sure you were provided for."

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes shining with gratitude that he knew she was having trouble expressing.

"Thank you, Sirius," was all she said, giving him a small, soft smile.

"You're welcome. Now, shut up and let me pay for this Goddamn house, alright?"

She laughed lightly.

"Fine. But I _will_ help pay for the furnishings."

"Deal."

They sat in relative silence before Sirius looked at her, hesitant to broach the subject but feeling they needed to get on the same page.

"So…" he said. "You and Remus, eh? In a dressing room?"

Hermione tensed slightly, looking down at her hands.

"Yeah," she admitted. "Not one of our finer moments, I fear. We were both too caught up in the moment to concentrate on the potential consequences."

"Do you think Malfoy saw you two?"

"I don't think so. He would have been even more ridiculously smug if he had. I think he was just trying to see if I'd give the game away, as it were."

Sirius nodded before glancing at her.

"So are you and Remus…back together?" he asked awkwardly.

She let out a short laugh.

"No. It was a one-time thing."

"Are you…er…planning on having many more of them?"

She looked at him, slightly amused.

"When? Before or after the fidelity charms are in place?"

"Oh yeah. Fair point." Then he cleared his throat. "Listen, kitten, I think we should tell each other if, in the next two weeks, one of us happens to…er…_dally_. We can keep our stories straight that way."

She nodded.

"I don't foresee any dallying on my part, but yeah, I agree it will probably be necessary. I just hope Lucius doesn't go to the Ministry with his suspicions about Remus and me."

Sirius shook his head.

"He won't. He lacks sufficient proof."

Hermione scoffed.

"When has _that_ ever been an issue?"

"He still won't. He's wary of me. Oddly satisfying, that."

He shot her a grin, which she returned.

A moment later, Henry walked in looking slightly distracted. Glancing at the couple, his eyebrows furrowed slightly before he closed the door to the conference room again.

"Everything alright with the houses, Mr. Andrews?" Hermione asked politely.

"Oh yes, Miss Granger. I apologize for my distracted state. It's just…" He glanced at the closed door for another minute before sighing. "We have a…well…a _difficult_ customer and I just wanted to make sure Eleanor was alright. I'm sorry. Everything's ready. We'll take the office floo. It's just in the back."

He opened the conference room door and stepped out, motioning to a door further down the corridor. Glancing back at the reception, Sirius saw Henry lock eyes with Eleanor for a brief moment before following the confused couple down the hall. Once the door was closed to the cozy office that had a fireplace, Henry turned to the two.

"I'm sorry," he apologized again before giving them a smile. "I'm a bit protective of her, you see."

Hermione smiled a wistful sort of smile that Sirius hadn't ever seen her wear.

A quick trip through the floo had them standing in the grand ballroom of a magnificent house on the corner of St. George's square. From the large windows, Hermione could see the Thames, but a quick sweep of the place told her it was too much for just the two of them.

"Too big," she said as they met back in the ballroom. "I don't want to spend my weekends cleaning 25 huge rooms."

Sirius sighed.

"That's what house elves are for, love."

She sent him a scathing look and he rolled his eyes.

"Alright, alright. Something a bit less ornate, maybe?"

The next four locations were all problematic as well, culminating in a brief but heated argument between the two over their diversions in architectural tastes while looking at a modern, minimalist loft in Soho. Sirius loved the more modern styles, with harsh lines and odd angles jutting out unexpectedly. Hermione, though by no means traditional, preferred to live in a place where walls didn't suddenly jut out to attack her or have stairwells that reminded her of an MC Escher painting.

"It's unique!" Sirius said stubbornly as they walked through the Soho flat, the dizzyingly-high ceilings of which tapered penatgonally to a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows.

"I would like something that doesn't inspire vertigo whenever you look upwards, thank you very much," she replied hotly. "Plus, there's no privacy," she added, pointing to the windows that, despite affording them a great view of Tottenham Court Road, where mercilessly public.

Begrudgingly agreeing that the privacy issue was something they couldn't live with, Sirius turned to the amused older man.

"Are we out of options?" he asked, somewhat hopeful that the day was almost over.

Henry shook his head.

"There's one more that I have here. I don't show it often, because it's a converted Muggle property that was willed to us a few years ago," he said. "It's a shame most wizards don't have any interest in looking at it, because it's one of the most beautiful properties we have." He sighed before smiling at them. "Have either of you been to Bloomsbury?"

Hermione gasped, ignoring the fact that Sirius seemed ignorant to the fashionable London neighborhood. Ever since she was a little girl, she had fantasized about living in the proverbial Mecca for literaries and intellectuals, especially after reading Virginia Woolf and learning about the Bloomsbury Group. She had had a fascination with the area, despite its historic significance being long defunct. She had considered it – ironically – somewhat 'magical'.

When the three of them stepped out of the fireplace of the Georgian townhouse that sat in Bedford Square, Hermione gave a small squeal. Sirius smiled slightly. They had stepped into the library. From the look of rapture on Hermione's face, he could tell she was quickly falling in love with the wood-paneled walls, the inset floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and the thick, plush burgundy carpet. He wasn't overly impressed by the room, considering it a bit stuffy for his tastes, but he knew better than to state his views when she looked so happy.

Stepping into the long foyer, however, Sirius arched an eyebrow. This part of the house had been modernized for 21st century convenience. The floors were tiled black and white, giving a stark, modern contrast to the warm tones of the library. As with Georgian architecture, the hallway ran from the front door straight through to the back, but the center had been renovated into a large greeting chamber, complete with high ceilings and sky lights. A staircase wound elegantly to the second floor off this chamber and had a banister of wrought iron. Looking up, Sirius smiled slightly at the large chandelier that lit the spacious area. He could see a marble mezzanine on the second floor that looked out at the exquisite center piece.

"There are seven bedrooms, six full baths, and a terrace off the master bedroom. There are five reception rooms here on the first floor that have been converted for different purposes by the previous owner. The room we just came through, if you hadn't guessed, was the library. There is also a study, a drawing room, a living room, a formal dining room, as well as a half-bath and a spacious kitchen. The cellar is was previously used for wine storage but you can use it for anything or convert it, if you wish," Henry explained, smiling slightly at Hermione's glee, watching her rush through the rooms.

Walking back to the kitchen, Sirius admired the gleaming chrome of the Muggle appliances that seemed to fit seamlessly with the old-fashioned aga cooker. There was a large island counter with high metal bar stools that matched the chrome. Small, circular lights were set into the ceiling. In the corner sat a carved breakfast nook with large bay windows that looked out into the back. Large sliding doors led outside and as Sirius stepped into the secluded garden, he realized it was just large enough for intimate entertaining.

"Let's look upstairs," Hermione said excitedly from behind him, grabbing his hand and pulling him back through the kitchen and up the sweeping staircase.

The bedrooms were similar in size to those in Grimmauld Place, which meant that anyone who stayed with them would be gifted with an abundance of space. They were also decorated with different colors, which caused Hermione to animatedly designate each room for their friends.

"Ron and Luna can have the blue bedroom, because we can put up bronze-colored drapes and linens and call it our Ravenclaw room. Neville and Hannah can stay in the yellow one, and we'll call it the Hufflepuff room after we furnish that with black linens and drapes. Ginny and Harry can have the red room, because we can finish it wish gold accents. It would make sense, wouldn't it, that they have the Gryffindor room? Oh, look! Pink! Well, clearly Tonks will go in _there_. I don't know who'll like the purple room. It's very royal. Maybe Kingsley? Or the twins! Yes, we can put twin beds in that room for Fred and George. The gray room should be Remus's, because the color soothes him during the full moon, and the green…"

"I suppose we'll have to fill it with snakes and call it the Slytherin room?" Sirius asked in amusement. "I expect you'll be invited Snivellus to stay in there?"

Hermione ignored him.

They walked into the master bedroom, which Sirius half-expected to be rainbow-colored, but they both gasped. The walls were white, but the ceiling was painted with a huge fresco of Mount Olympus, with the different Greek gods painted on it. Appropriately, Aphrodite and her lover Ares were locked in a passionate, clandestine embrace right above where they both assumed the bed would go. The room itself was grand, with a large walk-in closet and a bathroom big enough to house several quidditch teams. A set of marble stairs led to a deep bathtub, and in the corner sat a shower surrounded by sliding glass doors.

Hermione was charmed by the 'his' and 'her' sinks that sat against the wall.

"Oh, it's _perfect_," Hermione cried, clasping her hands together in childlike enthusiasm.

Sirius smiled.

"Am I to assume you like it?" he asked.

"I _adore_ it," she breathed before looking at him worriedly. "Don't you like it?"

He chuckled.

"I love it, kitten. I think it's beautiful."

She flushed in pleasure.

"So?" Henry asked as they descended the stairs, Hermione practically skipping. "What's the verdict."

"We'll take it," Sirius said definitively. "Let me know how much, and I'll have a check for you in the morning."

Henry smiled.

"It's actually quite reasonable," he said. "You see, when I said it was willed to us, I wasn't being entirely honest. It was actually willed to an organization called 'Dumbledore's Army' and I was entrusted to make sure only the right people saw it. Apparently the previous owner was quite thrilled that something so important to the cause of truth and justice was named after him."

Hermione gaped.

"This was Professor Dumbledore's house?" she asked. "But…he lived in Godric's Hollow."

Henry chuckled.

"Not many people know this, but Dumbledore was a ridiculously wealthy wizard. He owned several houses all over England and, before his death, willed his three favorites to the three tireless founders of his blessed secret society. This one just happens to be in the name of Miss Hermione Granger. His house in Godric's Hollow is for Mr. Harry Potter, and his cottage outside Ottery St. Catchpole is for Ronald Bilius Weasley."

Hermione gave a dry sob as she looked around with a heightened appreciation as Sirius looked at Henry accusingly.

"Why didn't you show this to us first?" he demanded.

"I had to make sure we weren't followed. The reason I was so nervous in the office was because Antonin Dolohov and Amycus Carrow had just come in and were hassling Eleanor. It was quite a feat to shake them from our trail, as they are quite persistent, but we left them behind in the Belgravia manor I showed you about two hours ago. Besides," he added, a Dumbledorean twinkle in his eye. "I'm a bit of a showman. Indulge an old man his grand finale."

Hermione squealed excitedly and Sirius smiled.

"So…this house is hers then? Just like that?"

Henry nodded.

"All I need to verify everything is the charmed galleon you all used to communicate during your days in the D.A."

Hermione dug eagerly into her purse, having never parted with the galleon since she created them her fifth year, and handed it to Henry. He examined it, admiring the engravings around the edges, before handing it back to her with a soft smile.

"Dumbledore always said you were a phenomenal witch, Miss Granger," he said. "I can see that, like most things, he was quite right."

Hermione flushed.

"Well, if you're going to take this house, I best set the wheels in motions," Henry said, putting the files into his briefcase. "I'm just going to pop back to the office to make sure Eleanor is alright and get the paperwork. Make yourselves comfortable. I'll be back in a bit."

"Alright. Thank you, Mr. Andrews," Hermione said sincerely.

Henry smiled.

"Miss Granger, it is a pleasure," he replied before walking back to the library. A couple of seconds later, they heard the floo activate and Hermione turned happily to Sirius.

"Oh Sirius," she said, giving a satisfied sigh. "This is going to be _ours_."

"_Yours_, kitten," he corrected, her grin infectious. "But I look forward to sharing it with you for however long we need to."

She squealed again, jumping happily into his arms in a huge hug. He caught her easily, enjoying how well she fit against his body.

"We'll move in this week," he said into her hair, closing his eyes and inhaling her scent. "You and Ginny and whoever else you want can go out and buy up Diagon Alley for furniture and whatever else your heart desires."

"Thank you so much, Sirius," she whispered before kissing him.

The kiss was short and sweet, not unlike the brief one they shared after the dinner with her parents. But as Hermione pulled away, Sirius looked into her eyes and found himself leaning in again, catching her lips with his in a deeper, more passionate one. She tasted like nothing he had ever tasted before and he found her addicting. She was like a rare cognac, all spice and sweetness that exploded upon his palate and demanded he partake of her.

Sirius groaned in her lips, his tongue begging entrance to her mouth. She conceded, moaning as he devoured her. She wrapped her legs around his torso as her hands entangled themselves in his hair, drawing him closer. He explored her mouth, dueling gently with her tongue before sweeping his around, exploring the exotic taste that was just so uniquely _her_. Her body pressed closer to his and he found himself stumbling backwards, hitting the wall.

He turned, pressing her into it. His lips never left hers as his hands started to run up and down her body. He felt the gentle curve of her breasts beneath the soft cashmere sweater she wore. The back of his hands grazed her collarbone, feeling the smooth ivory column of her neck under his knuckles. His body was heating up with a rapidity he had never felt before. He ached for her and by the way her body responded when his fingers slid over the sensual patch of skin between her sweater and her jeans, he knew she desired him as well.

A sheepish cough behind them tore them apart and Sirius jumped back, rather dazed, as Henry smiled serenely at them.

"Sorry to interrupt but I think we should finish up before you two…er…celebrate."

Slightly flushed, Hermione nodded, avoiding eye contact with Sirius as she silently followed Henry into the kitchen.

Sirius was distracted all through the rest of the meeting. All he could think about was how good her lips felt on his, how soft her skin was under his fingers, and how he had felt a distinct loss when he pulled away from her. It scared him that he was becoming so attached to the little witch and was only too glad when they bid their elder companion good-bye and floo back to the library of Grimmauld Place so they no longer had to pretend to be the happy couple.

Brushing off the ash from his shoulders, Sirius turned to Hermione.

"Listen, kitten…" he started but she stopped him.

"We just got caught up in the excitement," she said. "No need to explain."

He blinked.

"But…"

"Sirius," she said, looking up into his eyes. "Let's not complicate this by trying to justify it or exaggerate it. We are players in these ridiculous roles and sometimes even the best of actors get caught up in the play. It's fine."

She smiled, patting his arm.

"Now, I need to start packing. I urge you to do the same."

And with a final kiss on the cheek, she exited the room, leaving Sirius trying to work out why her rejection suddenly made his chest feel so tight.


	14. Chapter 14: An Interesting Proposal

**A/N:** I HAVE A BETA!!

I'm very excited about this, because that means someone incredibly intelligent will be looking over my work and picking out those tiny mistakes I don't catch. And I'm blessed with the awesomest beta EVER! Thanks GVSL - You're the best!!

SO...ONWARD HO, AND READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!!

**Chapter Fourteen: An Interesting Proposal**

"Merlin's beard, 'Mione," Ginny gasped two days later when Hermione gleefully showed her friend her new house. "This is absolutely…"

"Breathtaking," Hermione finished, gazing lovingly around her new home, it's grandeur and beauty still never ceasing to amazing her.

Ginny had started badgering Hermione the minute she had gotten back to Grimmauld Place and had seen the enamored look on her friend's face. Hermione had wanted to show Ginny the house the next day, but despite the advantages magic afforded to the wizarding world, bureaucracy was still infuriatingly slow and it took almost a full day for all the paperwork to sort itself out. In the meantime, the two witches had holed themselves up in Hermione's room, packing and discussing the house in such detail that upon entrance, Ginny almost felt like she had been there already.

"And Dumbledore bequeathed this to you? No questions asked?"

"Yes. I suppose I was a little relieved that an old set of wizard fairy tales wasn't the only thing Dumbledore left me to remember him by."

They ascended the stairs and looked through the rooms, all the while discussing the decorating plans Hermione had outlined. Ginny was both amused and thrilled by Hermione's plans to create a room for each of the four houses in Hogwarts.

"I'm surprised you're going to have a Slytherin room," Ginny said, gazing around the green room and imagining the silver accents Hermione wanted to add. "I'm not going to lie and say that I appreciate those dirty snakes."

Hermione chuckled.

"I think Dumbledore would have wanted it," she said. "He was always emphasizing unity versus discord when it came to house pride. Plus, it's not like we don't owe a great deal to one particular snake."

Though she would never admit it to his face, Hermione had long admired her former Potions professor for his courage and loyalty in those dark days, even though a large population of the Order believed his guilt after Dumbledore's death, herself included. Once Dumbledore's portrait had vindicated Snape the day before the Hogwarts battle, however, Hermione began to truly appreciate the sacrifices the man had made.

"I know everyone will love their rooms, 'Mione," Ginny said as they walked toward the master bedroom. "I'm just interested in knowing why you and Sirius decided to share a room."

Hermione sighed. Though they hadn't discussed it prior to buying the house, Hermione was fairly certain there was a quiet understanding between them that they would have to share a room. In spite of Mr. Weasley's assurances that the Ministry would contact them prior to any inspection, neither of them put it past the currently-corrupt government to show up completely unannounced. Since they were already skating on fairly thin ice, Hermione knew she could tolerate sharing the large bedroom more than risking an annulment and subsequent marriage to a Death Eater.

She could only assume this, however, as she and Sirius hadn't spoken since their return to Grimmauld Place that past Sunday evening.

As Ginny 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at the beauty of the Mt. Olympian fresco, Hermione thought about the past two days. When she had emerged from her room to prepare dinner Sunday evening, Lupin informed her that Sirius had left with Harry, undoubtedly planning on having a little heart-to-heart with the stubborn younger man regarding the situation. Ron and Luna had gone to her father's house for dinner, effectively leaving Hermione and her fatigued ex-lover alone. Feigning a lack of appetite, Hermione had barricaded herself in her room until Ginny had returned from practice. Taking pity on her hungry friend, Ginny had gone down to the kitchen under the pretense of a Ron-like hunger kick and had made a pile of cheese sandwiches to bring back up to the room.

Ginny hadn't had the heart to tell Hermione about Lupin's disappointed face.

The next morning, under Ginny's strict orders to "act like a Gryffindor, damnit!" Hermione had gone down to breakfast, hoping the events of the previous day had blown over enough for them all to act like civilized human beings.

It had been one of the most awkward meals of her life.

Despite Ron and Luna's cheerful greetings, Harry had ignored her with a voracity that shocked even her. Even with Ginny's poignant looks and Ron's soft – albeit far from subtle – urgings, Harry seemed adamant that Hermione's existence was no longer his concern. Things just got worse when Lupin, looking as though he hadn't slept a wink, padded through the door and fixed the already-fragile witch with a look so full of pain that she ended up excusing herself and fleeing once more to the safety of her room.

Having gotten permission from Mr. Weasley to take a few days off to pack and settle into her new house, Hermione had sat alone in her room for several minutes after breakfast deciding whether she could go to work regardless just to get away from the house. Tonks and Luna made the decision for her, showing up with broad smiles and offering their help in the packing process. Hermione had a feeling their presence had more to do with Ginny's discreet request that Hermione not be left alone than an altruistic urge to assist in the mundane action, though she enjoyed the company nonetheless. It had been a long time since she had just 'hung out' with her girlfriends and she found that she definitely missed the easy conspiracy of it. There were some things she just couldn't talk about with the boys.

Since it seemed like Sirius had not returned to Grimmauld Place the night before and Ginny had returned to the house in a horrible mood because her practice hadn't gone too well, Tonks and Luna took Hermione out to lunch in Muggle London. Ginny, calmed slightly, joined them after for an afternoon of window shopping for furniture. Though Hermione still carried Sirius's Gringott's card, she refused to use it to purchase anything until she had had the opportunity to talk to her elusive fiancé.

She had hoped that opportunity would present itself later that night, but once they had walked into Grimmauld Place, they found it once-again deserted except for Lupin, who was sitting by himself in the library. When Hermione asked about Sirius's whereabouts, the werewolf had snapped that Sirius had returned to the house, showered, changed, and then left again. Lupin had then stormed out of the library, murmuring something that sounded eerily like 'Not a bloody baby-sitter' before stalking up the stairs to the attic to await the full moon, leaving three stunned witches and one extremely guilty brunette gaping at the usually mild-mannered Marauder's behavior.

Not in the mood to discuss yet another frustrating aspect of her ever-complicating love life, Hermione had bid her friends good-night and for the second evening in a row, went up to her room without eating supper.

Despite her hunger when she had woken that morning, Hermione didn't dare go down for breakfast. So when a beautiful tawny owl had finally tapped on her window with paperwork and keys to her house, Hermione had grabbed Ginny and immediately apparated them to Bloomsbury before the redheaded witch had had time to breathe.

Standing now in what would eventually be her and Sirius's bedroom, Hermione heard her stomach give a protesting rumble before shooting a dull ache through her nerves. She sighed. Perhaps she and Ginny could grab a mid-morning coffee before the younger witch disappeared to finalize plans for Hermione's hen party that Friday.

"Well, I gotta hand it to Dumbledore – the man certainly had style," Ginny said, coming out of the bathroom. "I can't wait to see the house in Godric's Hollow."

They headed back down the staircase, discussing possible locations for Hermione's much-needed sustenance, when a soft groan emanated from one of the closed doors. Rapidly drawing their wands, the two witches made their way stealthily towards the study. Opening the door cautiously, Hermione immediately lowered her wand at the sight before her.

Sirius, topless in a pair of low-cut jeans, was tossing and turning on a bed of transfigured blankets. His brow was furrowed and his hair fell lightly over his eyes as his limbs lashed out at invisible enemies. There was a thin sheen of sweat on his body and by the looks of the tangled bedclothes, he had been tossing and turning most of the night.

Immediately forgetting the discomfort in her stomach, Hermione rushed over to him, kneeling next to his body, and putting a comforting hand on his forehead. He groaned again, but seemed to calm slightly under his touch.

"What in Merlin's name is he doing here?" Ginny asked quietly from behind Hermione as the brunette wedged herself between the wizard in her arms and the wall, Sirius's upper body resting in her lap as she gently pushed his hair out of his face and stroked his forehead soothingly. Looking around, she saw empty firewhiskey bottles and wrinkled bags of crisps, and a strong pang of guilt shot through her heart. It seemed that in his eagerness to avoid her, Sirius had reverted back to the scavenging lifestyle he had had while on the run.

"I think he's been sleeping here these past two nights," Hermione said, glancing up at her confused friend. "Instead of coming back to Grimmauld Place."

"But why?"

"I assume it's to avoid me."

"But…'Mione, what happened?"

Sighing, Hermione admitted the events of the past Sunday and the silence that seemed to spring up once the two had returned to Grimmauld Place. Hermione didn't mention the fact that her refusal to talk about the kiss they had shared was more out of self-preservation on her end than actual apathy. The kiss had been amazing – she knew they had both felt the sparks of chemistry that had passed between them – and she wanted to minimize it before _he_ had a chance to. It was becoming harder and harder to avoid the growing affection she had for Sirius, and she feared Lupin's assessment that Sirius was the one she truly wanted.

The wizard in question had calmed significantly in her arms and from the sound of his deep breathing, he had fallen into the deep sleep that seemed to have eluded him most of the night. She ran her fingers absently through his hair, marveling at the softness before once more smoothing it gently from his forehead where it seemed set on falling. Like Lupin, Sirius looked much younger in his sleep, and Hermione briefly hoped that he would remain that way long enough for her to forget the haunted look that sometimes filled his eyes.

"Well…what about the kiss would have made him avoid you?" Ginny asked, drawing Hermione's attention away from Sirius's angled good looks.

"It was pretty passionate," Hermione admitted. "And very…intimate. I think that scared him more than anything else. He's like me. He doesn't do well with emotional attachment."

"Sure, but…well...you two are getting _married_. That's pretty much the ultimate emotional attachment."

"Not with us, Ginny. Plus, I can't even begin to tell you how _awkward_ this whole situation has been. For years we've known each other as friends, or worse, he's seen me as his godson's best friend. Sure, we tease each other but having a private snog is a far cry from the gentle taunts we give each other. Now, I don't deny that I appreciate his attractive attributes – he's smart and kind and I won't pretend he's not _sinfully_ gorgeous – but no offense to him, he's hardly my ideal husband."

"None taken, kitten," Sirius's deep voice grumbled from her lap and Hermione jumped as he opened his sleepy eyes to look up at her.

"You heard us?" she asked, slightly horrified that he had heard her speaking so candidly about him.

"Hmm…hard not to. Ever heard of whispering?" he asked, stretching out his long limbs and Hermione smiled slightly as she caught Ginny's blushing gaze at Sirius's well-formed body.

"We didn't mean to wake you up," Hermione said apologetically, feeling him relax comfortably against her body.

"No, I should get up anyway and what better alarm clock than two beautiful ladies?" he said with a cavalier smirk. "Plus, it's always nice to get an uncensored peek into the female mind." He grinned up at Hermione, the mischief slowly returning to his gray-green eyes. "Sinfully gorgeous, eh? That's an ego-boost."

She rolled her eyes and swatted him playfully on the shoulder.

"As if _you_ need any more of an ego-boost."

He chuckled before groaning slightly and running his hand over his face.

"Neither of you happen to have any hangover potion, do you? I drank entirely more than I should have last night."

Hermione shook her head.

"I grabbed Ginny and dashed out the door so quickly, it's a wonder I remembered my purse," she said.

"I'll go get you some water," Ginny said before getting up and walking quickly out of the room.

Sirius arched an eyebrow.

"She _does_ know she can just conjure that up, right?" he asked.

Hermione chuckled.

"I think she just needed to…er…_cool off_ because you're bloody cute when you're all sleep-tousled. And don't say it, I know you know you're adorable."

He chuckled softly before looking up into her eyes again.

"I know it might seem that way, but I actually haven't been avoiding you," he said.

"No?" she asked, affectionately tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear.

He shook his head, effectively releasing the strand she had just pushed back.

"No. I've been avoiding Harry."

Hermione frowned.

"Harry? But…" Then she remembered the Sirius had taken Harry out the night before last, and her eyes narrowed. "You two didn't fight, did you?"

"We did," he said heavily. "It didn't end well."

She sighed.

"Well, I suppose that explains why he was so foul at breakfast yesterday morning." She looked down at Sirius. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shrugged.

"Not much to tell, really. He was in a bad mood to begin with and when I tried to talk about what had happened I think I just made him worse. We argued about you, and Remus, and it all snowballed a bit out of control. We both said some things… I suppose I just didn't want to go back to the house until I'd cooled off. I only went back yesterday because I knew Harry would be at work."

"Must've been quite a row if it's been two days and you're _still_ not home."

"I suppose it's harder when the person you're angry at is also someone you love deeply."

Hermione nodded in agreement but didn't say anything.

Sighing, Sirius sat up and turned to face her.

"Listen, kitten, about the kiss…"

"Sirius, you don't have to…"

"Shut up a minute, will you?" he said with a slight smile. "God, woman, it's amazing anyone else can get a word in edgewise sometimes."

She pouted slightly but let him continue.

"That day," he said. "You caught me off guard a bit, but we can't simply ignore that intimacy you mentioned."

"Yes, that's true enough, I suppose," she replied.

"I understand we got caught up in the moment. The prospect of owning this house was exciting, but that doesn't take away the fact that we left ourselves quite open to each other."

"I agree," Hermione said, an idea that had been stirring in her mind for the past forty-eight hours spilling to her consciousness. "That's why I propose we don't do it again. Ever."

He blinked.

"Don't…what? Kiss?"

"Not in that way. Obviously, being married, we won't be able to avoid it entirely, but a passionate snog like that can lead to…well…dangerous places."

"So you're suggesting that we just…not kiss. At all?"

"Yes."

"And during sex?"

She shot him a wry smile.

"I'm sure you've shagged without kissing on the lips, Sirius."

He remained silent as she watched him, trying to gauge his reaction as she ran over the proposal in her own head. Despite her bravado, Hermione hadn't actually shagged without kissing on the lips. It had always seemed like a natural part of the sex process. Even particularly heated encounters – like the ill-advised liaison in the changing room – involved some kissing. Hermione wondered briefly if things would have been easier and less emotional if she had removed that aspect from her sex life.

That line of thinking sent her brain straight to Lupin. He had looked so hurt and angry the night before at the mere mention of Sirius. She knew a lot of it had been the approaching full moon raking on his nerves but it didn't stop her from knowing their relationship would be very strained for a very long time.

Despite that, she had still left a bar of chocolate on his pillow that morning as she had done for years.

"I've become very partial to this room," Sirius's voice mused, breaking Hermione from her reverie to see him looking around. "Do you mind terribly if I claim it as my office?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Your office?"

He smiled.

"With you at work, _someone's_ going to have to run this household. _Especially_ if you're planning on turning it into a revolving bed and breakfast ala Hogwarts."

She smirked.

"So this will be where guests come to call on the lady of the house?"

He poked her lightly.

"Watch it, little witch," he said, his growl full of playful warning. "You'll learn soon enough how much of a man I am."

"Sorry it took me so long," Ginny said loudly from the door, effectively pausing what promised to be an interesting banter of innuendo. "I realized you didn't have any glasses here so I just popped back home for that hangover potion."

She handed Sirius a vial and he downed it gratefully.

"Cheers, Gin," he said with a lopsided smile, handing the vial back to her.

She nodded.

"No problem. Now, I've got to go. Lots to do before practice."

"You've been practicing for weeks now. When's your first actual match?" Hermione asked as Ginny tucked the vial in her pocket.

"The day after your wedding. Harpies versus Cannons. Ron's beside himself. Wants to know all our secrets."

As she said this, Ginny rolled her eyes. They all knew that even if Ron's blessed Chudley Cannons _did_ manage to learn the tactics of Ginny's Holyhead Harpies, they would still be outmatched in skill and speed.

"One day Ron will realize that the reason for the Cannons' horrible record is the Cannons themselves and not a general Quidditch Conspiracy," Hermione said with a smile.

"So true. Will you be coming to the game?" Ginny asked.

"Can't," Sirius answered before Hermione could say anything. "Honeymoon."

Hermione smiled mildly.

"You're going on a honeymoon?" she asked in amusement. "With whom?"

He chuckled, standing and grabbing his t-shirt as Hermione stretched her legs out.

"With _you_, you silly swot."

"I have to work, Sirius."

"Arthur's already given you time off. Come on, love, Kingsley said we needed to act like this is real. _Real_ couples have honeymoons, right Ginger?" he asked Ginny, who flushed slightly at the nickname.

"Yes," she said. "Harry and I are going to Sydney for two weeks and Ron's taking Luna to Greece."

"Alright," Hermione acquiesced. "And where are _we_ going, husband?"

His grin broadened.

"It's a surprise, kitten."

"Oh no you don't," she said, giving him with a pointed look. "I'm not going to let you whisk me away to parts unknown _just_ because you can."

He gave her an innocent look.

"Now Hermione, you couldn't possibly think I would take you somewhere horrible, could you?"

"Wipe that angelic look off your face, Mr. Black, because I know very well that you would take me to Timbuktu if you thought it was worth a laugh."

Sirius chuckled slightly.

"Where's your sense of adventure, love?"

"Restricted only to the bedroom."

He smirked slightly as he arched an eyebrow.

"I don't see why we can't have both."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Ginny blushed at the exchange.

"I should go," she mumbled. "Gotta drop off the deposit for your party venue."

"Do you need any money, Gin? I know it's my party but…" Hermione started but Ginny waved her hand dismissively.

"Tonks and I have got it covered. Plus, you're gonna be shelling out the galleons for mine."

Hermione smirked slightly. Ginny's hen party was going to take place two weeks after Hermione's wedding. She and Tonks had spent several hours discussing possible plans, each seeming as inadequate as the next. They both knew that, when it came to Ginny, the wild witch deserved more than just a mere party. So, the two and Luna had decided to whisk the young redhead away fro a weekend in Monte Carlo for gambling and a pre-winter frolic.

"Uh-oh…I know that look. What are you and Tonks planning?" Ginny asked, her eyes narrowing as she saw Hermione's smirk get wider.

"Trust me, Ginger, with a look like that, I think it's better not to ask," Sirius said with a laugh.

Ginny shook her head with a smile.

"I'm just going to have to make your hen party even more spectacular now."

"Good luck," Hermione said, slightly smug.

Ginny rolled her eyes at Sirius.

"Just so you know, be careful with her. Don't let her win too many arguments because she's absolutely unbearable when she's smug."

Sirius laughed as Hermione glared, knowing fully that those words were exactly the words she had used to describe her mother. Crossing her arms, she fixed Ginny with the sternest look she could muster.

"Please make sure you owl all relevant information to Alexandra," she said, knowing that the dose of reality would take her friend down a peg or two. "And you _know_ that includes place and time."

Ginny sighed.

"Fine. But if she shows up…"

"Trust me, she won't. She's already told me several times how much she disapproves the idea in the first place."

Ginny muttered something that included the words 'uptight' and 'good shag' before she glanced at her watch.

"Right. I'm going to leave for real now. Don't ask me questions or distract me."

Hermione and Sirius laughed and Sirius extended his arm.

"I'll walk you out," he said.

Hermione watched them walk towards the door, Sirius's head bent low as he discussed something with Ginny. She sighed, yawning slightly as she realized she might pass out if she didn't get some food soon. She wondered if Sirius wanted to join her for a meal. From the looks of things, he hadn't been eating too well either.

Thinking of Sirius, Hermione's traitorous mind went back to the proposal she had set forth to him. She wondered if they could do it – go for a full lifetime without kissing – and found herself wishing she had had more experience with being callous and unfeeling. She would be the last person to say that she cared too _much_, especially involving the men that she slept with, but at the same time she was no where near Sirius's level of general indifference towards the women he had slept with.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Sirius asked in a childlike way as he came back into the room.

She smiled slightly.

"Just…life."

He nodded solemnly.

"Heavy stuff, that."

She laughed.

"You should see me when I'm high. Ron says I could solve all the world's problems when I'm high, if only there was someone sober around to record it."

Sirius smirked.

"That is a useful bit of information."

"What? That I could solve the world's problems?"

"No," he said with a wicked grin. "That you get high."

"On occasion, Sirius. It is by _far_ a rare occurrence."

"Doesn't stop it from being an occurrence nonetheless."

She chuckled slightly.

"Being married to you, I daresay I may need a joint or two to stop myself from killing you."

"Oh, you know me, love. I'll just come right back to life again."

She laughed but it turned into a groan as her stomach roared its displeasure.

Sirius chuckled.

"C'mon, kitten, let's go get some food. Give us a chance to explore the new neighborhood."

Delighted by the suggestion, Hermione hurtled to her feet enthusiastically. Her brain, however, seemed to move slightly slower than her body and she lost her balance as she tripped over the strewn blankets. With his quick reflexes, Sirius caught her before she could hit the ground.

"Now, I've heard I have the ability to sweep women off their feet, kitten, but I hardly think it's necessary to take it quiet so literally," he joked as she straightened up.

"Oh, shut up, you great prat," she said, smacking him soundly.

He sniffed with an air of over-dramatized indignation.

"Just for that, _you're_ paying for lunch," he said, turning to walk out the door.

Hermione smirked.

"That's alright," she said as she followed. "My fiancé gave me his credit card."

She grinned brilliantly as he spun around in surprise and flounced past him out of the room.


	15. Chapter 15: A Hen Party Nightmare

**A/N:** Ok, Ok...sorry about the delay. My apologies. I've been trying to write as fast as I can and then I forgot I actually had to type it out before it magically gets on FF. Sorry.

A bit of news: I'm on Twitter now as a fanfic author and I DO update letting people know about where I am in my writing process, so if you have a Twitter, go to my profile and click on my homepage (or read the announcement at the top) and follow me! You can send me instant blurbs to get my butt in gear and update quicker.

Once again, mucho gusto to my wonderful beta, GVSL. Love you, Amy!

READ AND REVIEW!

**Chapter Fifteen: A Hen Party Nightmare**

"You did _what_?!"

"We made a deal not to kiss unless we're in public and we have to."

"_Why_?!"

"To avoid any emotional attachments."

"_ARE YOU INSANE?!"_

Despite the loud throb of the music in the club, heads turned curiously toward the goggling redhead who was staring in unabashed disbelief at the curly-haired brunette who wore a penis-shaped tiara perched precariously upon her wild waves. After seeing that nothing else was going to be said by the oblivious redhead, the party-goers turned back to their drinks and conversations, chalking the outburst to just another over-reaction by the often temperamental youngest Weasley.

Hermione arched an amused eyebrow as Ginny continued to look aghast. She hadn't really intended to tell the younger witch about her arrangement with Sirius, as she didn't see it as particularly necessary information. However, between Ginny's ever-increasing practice schedule and Hermione having to balance work with organizing her new house, the two had barely had time to greet each other, let alone finish the conversation they started earlier that week involving Hermione and Sirius's bone-melting kiss in the foyer.

So, upon Hermione's arrival at the chic nightclub Ginny had rented out for Hermione's hen party, Ginny had pounced upon her friend, forced the obscene tiara upon her head, and had dragged her into a corner to finish discussing the more intimate details.

"Honestly, Ginny, it's not that big of a deal," Hermione said after several seconds had passed with Ginny doing nothing but an amusing imitation of a goldfish. "It's not like it's going to effect our lives in any major way."

"Not going to…'Mione, that's hardly the point!"

"Isn't it?" Hermione asked somewhat wearily, hoping their conversation could move from the corner to the bar so she could sample the delicious-looking red cocktails that the equally delicious-looking bartender was serving.

Ginny, however, already had a cocktail in hand and seemed content to stay where she was.

"You are marrying possibly _the_ sexiest man in England and you're not going to take advantage of that fact? What's wrong with you?"

"Oh let me count the ways!" Hermione joked.

"Don't joke, 'Mione. You and Sirius…you fit. In an odd, kind of kismetic sort of way."

"Ginny," Hermione said, rubbing her face with a sigh. "This is not going to be some legendary love story where two happily-single people are thrown together and end up falling desperately in love with one another. This is the story of a malicious government forcing undeserving people into awkward situations to test the boundaries of human endurance. Sirius is helping me out because he's a good guy. Please do not plaster your romantic fantasies on this, because he is _not_ the type of man I'm likely to fall in love with. Ever."

"He most certainly _is_," Ginny said stubbornly. "He's the male _you_!"

Hermione chuckled.

"And where would you get the idea that I would be remotely interested in falling in love with someone who shares all my bad qualities?"

Ginny sighed.

"I only want what's best for you. And Sirius. And the two of you…"

"_There_ you are," a voice interrupted and the two turned to see Tonks and Luna approaching them, Tonks nearly plowing into Fleur on her way over. "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

Hermione gratefully accepted the slightly-smoking red cocktail Luna handed her.

"Ginny absconded with my person the moment I arrived," Hermione explained after taking a sip of what she now considered her favorite drink. "She dragged me into this dark corner and forced this ridiculous headpiece upon me."

"It's a sign of fertility," Luna said, gazing dreamily up at the tiara. "I intend on wearing one at _my_ hen party."

"She wanted to wear it to the wedding but Molly quashed that notion fairly rapidly," Tonks mumbled to Hermione, causing the witch to snort in her drink, sending droplets of alcohol splashing over the rim of the drink and over her chin.

"Ooh…party foul!" Ginny squealed. "You have to take a shot!"

Hermione arched her eyebrow inquisitively as Ginny motioned to the bartender, who sent over a tray of shot glasses with a flick of his wand.

"Party foul?" Luna asked, voicing the question that Hermione had been thinking.

"Yes. It's a delightful little Americanism I picked up when I joined Harry on his lecture tour in the States. Those Americans sure know how to drink."

Tonks chuckled, taking a glass of the bright blue liquid off the tray.

"At least the first 'party foul' wasn't on me this time," she joked.

Hermione took a glass as well, toasting the grinning bartender with a wink before downing the liquid at the same time as her three friends.

It tasted faintly of blueberries.

"Mmm…Jazzy Juggernauts," Ginny said as they put their empty glasses on the tray. "Not too many of these, because you'll feel like you've been kicked in the stomach after three or four."

"Where did you find _him_, Ginny?" Hermione asked, nodding discreetly at the bartender who was currently flirting with a visibly tipsy Lavender Brown. "He's almost as luscious as the drinks he makes."

Ginny smirked.

"He's a guy I met third year during the Tri-Wizard Tournament," she said. "He's a Beauxbatons boy. Friend of Fleur's."

"He is beautiful."

"Yeah, I'm sure his boyfriend thinks so too," Tonks cracked. When her three friends looked at her curiously, she rolled her eyes. "C'mon, ladies, even _I_ can tell he's a poof."

Hermione looked at the man carefully.

"You know…he _is_ a little _too_ good-looking," she said after a moment.

Ginny sighed.

"All the good ones are gay, arseholes, or taken."

Tonks arched an eyebrow.

"Having problems with Harry?"

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"He's still being a prat about Hermione. Honestly, I don't know how I tolerate him sometimes."

Tonks chuckled again before taking Hermione by the arm.

"C'mon, 'Mione, let's get you mingling."

Tonks steered Hermione toward the throng of giggling witches. They were immediately approached by the friendly, smiling faces of Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott. After congratulating Susan on her engagement to Ernie MacMillan, Tonks steered Hermione through the crowd, punctuated every now and then with Ginny proffering shots of multi-colored liquid, each with a tantalizingly fruity taste to them.

"Finally decided you wanted to settle down, eh, Hermione?" Padma Patil joked, giving Hermione a hug before glancing at Tonks with a flirtatious smile.

"Well, since it was compulsory," Hermione joked, smirking to herself as Tonks disentangled herself from Hermione's side to engage Padma in a deeper conversation. Despite their differences, Tonks and Sirius were both outrageous flirts and Hermione knew better than to stand in the way of her friend when she had something – or someone – in her sights.

Deciding that her new-found solitude warranted another drink from the bar, Hermione turned in that direction. She had barely taken two steps, however, when she found herself face-to-face with the accusing glares of Lavender and Parvati. Bracing herself for the worst tirade of envy she could imagine, Hermione shot them both an easy smile.

"Thank you for coming, ladies," she said.

"Hermione Granger," Parvati stated, brushing off the pleasantry as her dark eyes flashed with ill-disguised jealousy. "How _dare_ you keep from us the fact that you were shagging Sirius Black!"

"You could have at least told us you were _dating_ him," Lavender added, her voice somewhat shrill in her growing inebriated state.

"It was all very hush-hush," Hermione said, slipping into the established back story. "It's not exactly the most appropriate match. He's over twenty years my senior, _and_ he's Harry's godfather. I didn't want it to get out until we were absolutely certain we were going to stay together."

"Regardless, you should have at least told _us_," Parvati said.

Hermione chuckled.

"No offense, ladies, but if I had told you, the _Daily Prophet_ would have run a piece on it the next day. Love you though I do, neither of you can keep your mouths shut."

Both had the good grace to silently agree with her comment.

"Well, despite the age difference, you are definitely a lucky woman," Lavender said with a wistful sigh. "I saw the picture of the two of you together in _Witch Weekly_. That man is…"

"Hot? Sexy? _Sinfully_ gorgeous?" Ginny said, interrupting them with another tray full of shots, these ones orange. "Sirius is definitely all of the above. Now, who wants a Tantalizing Tangerine?"

Hermione chuckled as they all took a glass.

"Do you have a proverbial orchard behind the bar?" she asked. "Blueberries, peaches, apples, pears, and now tangerines? What's next? Gobsmacking Grape?"

"No, but that sounds good," Ginny said, distracted by movement next to the bar. "C'mon, 'Mione, drink up. I want you good and sloshed before the floorshow."

"Floorshow?" the brunette asked, downing her drink and enjoying the burst of citrusy freshness.

"Yes. It should start in a few…What are they doing? I told them to hold the vibrating cupcakes until _after_ the lap dance!" Ginny cried, shoving the tray into Parvati's hands before rushing to a scantily-clad, muscular man offering the baked confection to guests.

"Vibrating…lap dance?! Ginny!" Hermione spluttered but the redhead didn't seem to hear or notice as she admonished the topless waiter.

"Hermione?" Luna's voice said quickly and Hermione found herself being pulled – for the second time that evening – into a quiet corner.

"Luna, what's…?"

"Listen," the ethereal witch said and Hermione couldn't help but notice the dreamy tone was gone from her friend's voice. "Alexandra's just shown up."

Hermione frowned.

"Alexandra…my wedding planner?"

"Yes. And before you go over to her, I think you should know a few things. I did a bit of digging into her past."

Hermione continued to frown in confusion before her eyes widened.

"Merlin, I forgot I was going to do that. You didn't have to…"

"I know, but I knew you were busy," Luna said, being uncharacteristically brisk. "Now, does the name Selena Selwyn mean anything to you?"

"She's the wife of a known Death Eater and the new head of the Department of Magical Marriages," Hermione answered. "Why?"

"Selena Selwyn and Alexandra _Rosier_ – that was her maiden name before she married Calisto Orion – were best friends at Hogwarts and still are. Selena was the one who convinced Narcissa to use Alexandra as her wedding planner. _And_ I have a feeling she's still chummy with the Malfoys."

Hermione let out a breath.

"I figured as much. How did you find this all out, anyway?"

Luna smiled wryly.

"The fantastic thing about being thought a little nutters is that no one thinks to question you when you research," she said. "Headmistress McGonagall couldn't leave me alone fast enough with the school records. Must have thought I was simply doing research on the infestation of dobbledarks in the dungeons of Hogwarts over the years. Which, by the way, there is compelling information to suggest…"

"Hermione!"

The two turned to see Ginny fighting through the crowd of girls towards them in a hurry, and Hermione rolled her eyes at Luna.

"Probably trying to force another shot down my throat," she mumbled. "Raspberry Razzmatazz or something."

Luna smiled but Ginny, having broken free of the sea of estrogen, charged over to the two of them with anything but mischief on her face. Hermione also noticed her arms were devoid of alcohol and crossed menacingly across her chest.

"I thought you said she wouldn't come?" she demanded.

Hermione blinked.

"What?"

"You're charming little ray of bridal sunshine," Ginny said sarcastically.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I'll go deal with her," Hermione said, giving Luna a knowing look before walking over to the bar.

"Hello, Alexandra," she said mildly as she approached the disapproving older woman. "This is a pleasant surprise."

Alexandra, who had glanced at Hermione's tiara with something akin to disgust, merely waved her heavily bejeweled hand dismissively, her dark eyes traveling over the motley crew that had assembled.

"I wanted you to know as soon as possible," she said, getting straight down to business. "I received an owl from Headmistress McGonagall. Apparently there's been some problems with the Hogwarts governors and you can't have the wedding at the school."

"What?!" Hermione cried, all of Luna's warnings flying from her mind as she was filled with a small measure of panic. "How can they do that?!"

"Apparently they think a wedding is an inappropriate use for the Great Hall, and have disallowed the ceremony completely."

"Do they know both Sirius and I are former students? _Exemplary_ former students, at that?!"

"Be that as it may, you and Mr. Black need to come down to my office right away to sort this all out."

"Alexandra, as worried as I am about this, I cannot leave my guests. And Sirius is at his stag night so I highly doubt he'll be willing to leave either."

"I hardly think your absence will be noticed," Alexandra said dryly, nodding to where most of the guests were distracted by the muscular, topless waiters who were serving sexually-themed finger food.

When Hermione didn't reply, Alexandra sighed.

"Fine. But let's at least go outside for a moment or two? I can hardly hear myself think."

Sighing, Hermione nodded and motioned for Alexandra to lead the way out. Scanning the room herself, she caught Ginny's eye, motioning that she would only be a moment. Rolling her eyes, Ginny nodded before pointing to her watch and giving a look that read, _'Make it quick.'_

Stepping out into the early November chill, Hermione momentarily regretted her choice of outfit. Black linen pants and a striped purple and black halter vest were hardly conducive to the cold weather. A breeze passed, and she felt goose bumps form on her skin. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she looked expectantly at Alexandra.

"So?" she said, trying not to sound too impatient. "Any thoughts?"

The other woman smiled slightly.

"Several, actually. They're not going to do you any good, though."

"I'm sorry?"

"My dear Miss Granger, you are possibly one of the most gullible Mudbloods I've ever met," she said.

Alexandra's self-assured grin was the last thing Hermione saw before a sharp pain in her head turned her world to sudden black.

***

Sirius sat laughing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, watching the madness unfold before him.

All of the Weasleys, excluding Charlie but including Arthur, were sporting silly hats that recited obscene limericks every time the wearer belched – another fabulous product of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes – and the six redheads present were all taking turns to see how many times the word 'fuck' could be used in verse.

Kingsley and Moody were amused observers to the throng, each nursing a glass of firewhiskey as Lupin, who had seemed distracted and slightly morose of late, cracked a smile every now and then at the rhymes the hats created.

Harry, who was managing to enjoy himself despite the tension between him and Lupin, was sitting next to Sirius. Though he had apologized to Sirius for his behavior during their outing, Harry was still giving Lupin and Hermione the silent treatment – though Lupin was more accommodating of this fact than Hermione. In spite of multiple pleas from his friends and more than one threat of a sexless existence by Ginny, Harry remained stubbornly unmoved, though Sirius could tell by the unfocused glint in his godson's tired emerald eyes that his distance from Hermione was taking a toll on him. Sirius was certain there were things Harry told Hermione that he would _never_ tell anyone else and from the slight strain in Harry's demeanor, it was clear he was becoming overwhelmed with the absence of his closest female confidante.

A loud belch from Fred brought a naughty verse about a girl from Melbourne, leaving the younger men howling lecherously while the older ones chuckled with a slight nostalgia for their long-past youth.

Lupin cleared his throat, standing and lifting his glass.

"I'd like to propose a toast," he said, looking at his friend. "To Sirius Black…soon to be the luckiest bastard in the world."

Luckily, the Weasley boys were too far gone to be aware of the layer of subtle envy in the toast and they cheered loudly before starting to enumerate a number of Hermione's better attributes. Sirius, however, wasn't listening as he held Lupin's gaze, a knot of guilt forming as he saw the wistful sadness in the werewolf's eyes. Lupin smiled slightly, giving a small nod before turning his attention to some anecdote Bill was telling to his left.

"He really does love her, doesn't he?" Harry asked softly, following Sirius's unreadable gaze.

"Yes," Sirius replied, looking at the contemplative younger man. "You should know by now, Harry…Remus doesn't do anything halfway."

"I suppose I knew that," Harry said. "I suppose…I suppose that was one of the reasons why I was slightly hesitant about Lupin and Hermione. I know they're well-matched on paper. Both brilliant, compassionate, generous…even the age difference didn't bother me. Just…well…he always commits. And she doesn't. And I didn't want anyone to get hurt."

Sirius smiled sadly.

"You should also know that in a situation like Hermione and Remus's, someone _always_ gets hurt."

Harry sighed angrily.

"She should have told me. I could have helped her avoid all this. I could've…"

"What, Harry? Told her not to date Remus? I can tell you now what she probably would have said to you and what she would have told you to shove where."

"I know, but…"

"You have to know that she did it because she didn't want you to carry the weight of it around with everything else you have to contend with. And I'm sure she didn't want you to think her fragile. I grant you, she _should_ have said something before you slept together but that can't be changed now and you can't keep blaming her forever."

"I could try," Harry said huffily.

Sirius chuckled.

"You could, but I know you don't want to."

Harry let out a long sigh.

"It's just…_I_ was _her_ first too. I mean, first _legitimate_…"

He trailed off as his eyes darkened for a brief moment. Then he sighed.

"I always felt honored by that fact, you know? I don't love her, but I _love_ her. Does that make sense?"

Sirius smiled slightly.

"Yes. It does." He chuckled. "You know, we all felt the same thing for your mum. Not that we were in the same situation," he clarified quickly as Harry looked slightly horror-stricken. "No, Lily only had eyes for James, just like James only had eyes for Lily. Not that I didn't try to steer him toward other, more willing women before your mum gave in and agreed to date your dad. I even tried to set James up with Neville's mum before I realized Alice was far more keen on Frank." He chuckled again at the memory. "Lily and Alice were two singularly gifted witches. They raised the standard for us all."

Harry smiled.

"Mum would have liked Hermione," he said. "Though probably more for Lupin than you."

The comment wasn't meant maliciously, but Sirius had to bite back the slightly irrational jealousy that sprang into his heart.

"They'll be back together once this whole law issue passes."

Harry shook his head.

"No. I think that bridge was burnt the moment he admitted he was in love with her."

Sirius knew that if Hermione was anything like himself – which, the more he thought about it, the more he realized she was – Harry wasn't entirely wrong in that sentiment.

A sharp hiss from his godson brought Sirius's attention to the fact that Harry was grasping his chest in pain. At the same time, Ron gave a startled yelp and grasped his ankle. Both young men exchanged a look before Harry tore off his shirt and Ron pulled up his pant leg. The men in the room fell silent as the tattoo the three young heroes shared burnt a bright, bloody red.

"Hermione," Ron said, panicking as he scrambled to his feet.

A sound of rushing wind whipped around them and the patronus of a horse came galloping down the kitchen chimney and Ginny's terrified voice echoed off the stone walls.

"_Gather the Order. We're on our way back. Hermione's been taken."_


	16. Chapter 16: A Plot is Afoot

**A/N:** So I promised a chapter by the end of the week to all my Twitter followers and I think I'm a bit ahead of schedule, as it is Thursday! So yay!

Also, if you haven't had a chance, take a quick look at my dual profile with the utterly sexy and talented _Grande Vanilla Skim Latte_ called 'The Golden Duo 22' - the link is on my profile. We don't have anything published yet but we _do_ offer a preview of our newest story for a review - just for future reference.

And once again, Amy, you are the most awesomest beta in the entire world!

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: A Plot is Afoot**

Hermione awoke to find herself surrounded by penetrating darkness. Her head ached fiercely as her eyes adjusted, her other senses registering the cold dampness around her. Her first thought was that she had passed out in the Grimmauld Place basement again, undoubtedly after drinking too much at her hen party and thinking it a good idea to come down for some of the goblin wine Sirius had left before flooing home.

Then she remembered Alexandra and her blood ran cold. She had been kidnapped, and she was in a dungeon.

Struggling to her feet in war-mode, she assessed her surroundings with a more discerning eye. Yes, she was definitely in a dungeon. The damp walls and uncomfortable chill told her that much. Walking over to the iron bars, she saw a set of stone steps leading upward to a thick wooden door. Footsteps sounded over head and she could make out the sound of muffled voices. From what she remembered Harry and Ron telling her, she was certain she was in the dungeons of Malfoy Manor.

She felt around halfheartedly for her wand but knew it was a lost cause before she even got to her pocket. Alexandra might not have been the brightest apple on the tree, but the Malfoys were certainly not idiots. And if Selena Selwyn was involved - which Hermione had absolutely NO doubts that she was - the woman was no dunce either.

Hermione sat dejectedly on the floor, bringing her knees to her chest as she leaned against the wet walls. How could she have been so stupid? Hadn't Luna JUST warned her about Alexandra? She was supposed to be the brightest witch of her age, damnit! She was certain that title was going to be revoked if she ever got out of this mess alive and unscathed.

She shuddered slightly at the thought of the word 'if'.

She had been sitting there pondering her own stupidity for several minutes when the door at the top of the stairs opened and four dark figures started down the stairs. Getting to her feet, Hermione braced herself to meet her captors, all the while hoping and praying that the sharp jab she had managed to give her tattoo on her abdomen had been sufficient enough to warn Ron and Harry of her situation.

"Ah, good evening, Miss Granger," the cold silk of Lucius's voice said as the sound of jingling keys echoed through the chamber. "I trust you've been enjoying our hospitality?"

"If this is how you treat your guests, Lucius, I would hate to see how you treat your prisoners," she snarked dryly.

"You dare to be glib with your superiors?" a shrill voice said and the slim, slightly manic figure of Bellatrix Lestrange appeared. She held that same insane look in her eye that she had had during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, the result of which had had Hermione researching the Veil for two years in order to bring Sirius back.

Needless to say, Hermione disliked the woman immensely.

"If I felt I was in the presence of superiors, I would address them accordingly," Hermione stated haughtily. "As it happens, I'm simply underwhelmed by your efforts. What possible good do you expect to accomplish?"

"You insolent wench," a dark voice that Hermione didn't quite recognize said, though the tone caused her to shudder slightly.

"Now now, Selena, she doesn't know any better," Narcissa said calmly, her blonde head practically glowing in the darkness. "She's just a stupid little Mudblood, after all."

Hermione regarded the woman who had appeared in the thin slip of moonlight between Bellatrix and Narcissa. The woman had red hair - not quite as fiery as the Weasleys but a deeper, darker shade of auburn - and her green eyes were fixed menacingly upon Hermione.

_'So __this__ is Selena Selwyn,_' Hermione thought. '_Not exactly what I pictured._'

"Mudblood though she is, Narcissa, dear, this one is hardly stupid," Lucius said, bringing Hermione's attention back to him as he approached her with malice in his eyes. "Stupidly trusting, perhaps, but extremely intelligent, though it pains me to admit it."

"I don't like to repeat myself, Lucius," Hermione said, looking him square in his cold, gray eyes. "What do you want with me?"

He sneered.

"Oh Miss Granger, it's not what _I_ want with you, but what _we_ want with you. You and that infuriatingly large brain of yours."

"You have an odd way of asking me for a favor, especially when you know that there's no way I'd help you with anything."

"You _will_ learn manners, Mudblood!" Bellatrix screamed. "_Crucio!_"

Having been on the wrong side of Bellatrix's wand before, Hermione was able to steel herself somewhat through the pain. It didn't stop it from being any less excruciating, but years of training and a youth spent in silent terror gave her an advantage over her captors: she would not break easily.

"That'll do, Bella," Selena said softly and Hermione collapsed in a pile, drawing deep, shuddering breaths. She reminded herself, not for the first time, to destroy Bellatrix Lestrange when she got the chance.

"Why stop now?" Hermione baited, hoping her voice didn't reveal her physical pain. "We were having so much fun."

"Precocious little thing, aren't you?" Narcissa mused.

"Hermione, things will go much easier for you if you just do as you're told," Lucius said, his voice revealing his amusement.

"I'm sure it would. As it happens, you can all drop dead."

She was struck by the Cruciatus Curse again, but this time she did scream. This wasn't from Bellatrix. Hermione had always known that Bellatrix was a crazy nutcase, but even she couldn't project that much hate upon a single being. Azkaban had rid her of the capacity to focus. Selena Selwyn, however, was not a complete insane, and therefore was more dangerous.

And much deadlier.

After several excruciating moments, Hermione collapsed again, this time dry heaving on her hands and knees as her stomach worked to catch up with the rest of her body. A mild, unencumbered voice in her racing brain wondered whether now would be the time to finally produce those elusive tears under the enormous amount of pain.

But she was still dry-eyed as she struggled slowly to her feet.

"Don't speak, Mudblood, or it will be more of the same," Selena said. "And I will not let up before I have broken several bones."

"What do you want?!" Hermione spat, feeling her split lip and spitting blood onto the ground.

"We want you," Narcissa said. "Well, _we_ don't want you, but the Dark Lord does. And he wants your power."

Hermione scoffed.

"You and your precious reptile can kiss my arse."

"What did I tell you about speaking?" Selena said, her wand trained upon Hermione menacingly.

"It's alright, Selena, I think she had a right to know why she's here," Narcissa said.

"Awfully hospitable of you," Hermione said sarcastically, barely dodging the curse Selena threw.

"That's enough," Lucius said, his voice suddenly authoritative. "The Dark Lord wants her alive and able to perform magic."

The redheaded witch acquiesced, stowing her wand but continuing to glare at the younger witch.

"What's your plan with me, then?" Hermione asked, more comfortable in the knowledge that Selena's wand was out of sight. "Feed me to Lord Voldemort with afternoon tea?"

"My tolerance for your insolence is only so high, Miss Granger, and don't mistake my decision to spare you immense pain as weakness," Lucius said sternly.

"Which would, of course, explain why you sent a woman to capture me?"

A smug smile crossed his lips.

"It worked, didn't it?"

Hermione's nostrils flared and, once again reminded of her own stupidity, she remained silent.

"We have all been a bit careless with you, Miss Granger," Lucius continued. "We underestimated you because of your low birth. It is not a mistake the Dark Lord wishes to repeat. We have brought you here, first and foremost, to have you married. And then you shall help us being the Dark Lord to power again."

Hermione let out a mirthless laugh.

"In your fuzzy little dreams, Lucius. I'm amused you think I'll even consider it."

"My dear girl," he said, taking another step towards her. "By the time we're done with you, you will beg for it."

"Oh yeah? Well, if you haven't noticed, I happen to be engaged already, so you're shit out of luck."

"Engagements are broken all the time. Change of heart, change of mind..." He leaned in closer. "Infidelity."

"And who is it I'm supposed to be unfaithful with? You? Awfully cruel of you, considering your wife's right here."

He chuckled sinisterly.

"Not I, Miss Granger, though I daresay it might do you good to have a real man between your thighs. But no. My son, Draco, is your intended."

"Over my dead body."

"That can be arranged," Bellatrix snapped, her wand out again and trained on Hermione.

"How do you expect me to consent to this, eh? Imperius Curse? I'm sure you know a marriage bond can't be placed on someone under the influence of an Unforgivable," Hermione said.

"Very good, Mudblood," Selena drawled. "Very true. Potions, however, are virtually undetectable."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"And how do you expect to administer it when you know I won't take it willingly?"

"Do you think we were born yesterday, Mudblood?" Narcissa asked.

"Well..."

"Enough," Lucius said, his wand out and at her throat. "We will leave you to ponder your fate, Miss Granger. So much to do before the wedding. Alexandra can't possibly do it all herself, but she _is _the best, as you have seen."

With a flash of his dazzlingly malicious smile, he turned and swept out of the dungeon, followed by Narcissa, Selena, and with a reluctant sigh, Bellatrix. Hermione watched as the iron-barred door slammed shut behind the quartet and her eyes followed them as they exited through the wooden door at the stop of the stairs.

Hermione slid to the ground again, administering several jabs to her already-bruised abdomen as she tried vainly to inform her two best friends of her plight. She knew Ginny had probably informed the Order already, but in her wandless state, it was all she could think of to do.

She just hoped _someone_ would come to get her.

***

The kitchen of Grimmauld Place was a flurry of activity and scorch marks as Order members arrived to an enraged redhead using the stone walls and floor as target practice while her ebony-headed fiancé and equally infuriated older brother tried to stop her from hexing a pacing Sirius Black.

"This is all your fault!" Ginny screamed as Lupin dodged a flash of purple light that had been aimed at his best friend. "If you hadn't hired that cow..."

"Ginny, stop," Harry pleaded, grasping her wand hand and wincing as she elbowed him squarely in the stomach.

"Don't get me started on _you_, Mr. Potter," she seethed, rounding on him. "How would you feel if she died, and the last thing you ever did was call her a whore?!"

"I'm feeling plenty guilty without you reminding me of being arse, okay? Just calm down."

"_I am calm!_"

"Ouch!" Ron yelped, grasping his ankle for the third time that night as Harry rubbed his chest.

"Christ, 'Mione, we know," Harry mumbled.

"Ginny," Lupin said, his amber eyes belying his calm facade. "Tell us again what happened."

Ginny growled in frustration.

"It's like I told you. That bitch showed up outta nowhere and Hermione went out to talk to her. I went out two minutes later and they were gone. Then Luna told me that Alexandra was best friends with Selena Selwyn and I immediately knew something had happened."

"My question is, if she _knew_ Alexandra was dangerous, why the bloody hell did she go out alone with her?" Sirius asked, pausing in his pacing. "Sometimes I wonder if that girl has any common sense."

"Hermione is a smart girl," Lupin growled, nostrils flaring as he glared at his friend. "And she's more than capable of taking care of herself. I hardly think she was expecting an ambush."

"No one _expects_ an ambush," Sirius said. "That's why it's called an 'ambush'."

"Listen, you flippant, aristocratic fuck, if you hadn't hired the bitch in the first place, this never would have happened!" Lupin snarled, jumping to his feet. Luckily, Molly's soothing hand on his shoulder stopped him from launching himself at his obstinate friend.

"As eager as I am to join in on this witch hunt against Black, I _do_ have some insight as to what happened, if anyone's interested," the cool drawl of Snape's condescending voice sounded.

"Where is she?" Ginny demanded, and in spite of his bravado, Snape took a step away from the terrifying younger witch.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But..."

"Who took her?" Ron interrupted.

"I can't be sure, but I..."

"What do they want with her?" Harry asked.

"If I could just..."

"That's your 'insight', is it?" Sirius sneered. "Dazzling as always, Snivellus."

"If you bumbling fools will let me speak!" Snape snapped. "I might be able to find an answer to all of your questions."

Scowling, all faces turned to him.

"The Dark Lord has been increasingly impatient with Miss Granger's impending nuptials. He wanted her for one of his followers, as you know. My guess is that someone, most likely Selena Selwyn, abducted her for the purpose of handing her over to the Dark Lord to do with as he pleases. I know Antonin Dolohov and Amycus Carrow were quite eager to take her as their bride."

"She must be at Malfoy Manor then," Harry said. "That's the only place I know of that's equipped for prisoners."

"Malfoy Manor is heavily warded, Harry, and no one but Snape knows exactly where it is, and of course he can't tell us because he is under an Unbreakable Vow of Secrecy," Kingsley said, speaking for the first time from his perch at the head of the table.

"What do you mean, no one knows where it is? Four bloody years since the last battle and you _still_ don't know?" Ginny screeched.

"We've been a bit busy trying to catch them doing something wrong," Tonks explained, having arrived with Luna after trying to dispel the rest of the guests at the hen party without raising suspicions. "That's where most of our resources have gone."

"What do you mean, _catch_ them?! We have so much evidence..."

"Ginny, we don't need you ranting right now," Kingsley said sternly.

The rest of the room cringed as the mother of all Bat-Bogey Hexes sailed toward the wizard. It hit him square in the face and his chair toppled backwards in a way that would have been comical had the rest of the Order not been preoccupied with wondering who Ginny's next victim might be.

"We have to get her back," Lupin said savagely, slamming his fist against the table. "Someone _else_ has to know where that blasted mansion is!"

"I know someone who might be know," Sirius said darkly. "At the very least, I can get better information than Snivellus here."

"Don't you think you've already caused enough trouble? Why not let those of us who _haven't_ fucked up royally..." But Sirius was in front of Lupin, his hand gripping the front of his friend's shirt before Lupin could finish speaking.

"_Do not_," Sirius growled at his friend. "Do _not_ make this my fault, and do not delude yourself into thinking you're the only one that cares about her."

Lupin tore himself away from Sirius's grasp, his eyes practically glowing with rage. Standing off against each other, the best friends glared daggers before Sirius spun on his heel and stalked out of the kitchen. The rest of the room gave a collective wince as the front door slammed shut.

Kingsley, who had managed to right himself as the tension mounted, looked at Lupin.

"Where is he going?" he asked.

"Fucked if I know," Lupin growled. "It's not my day to keep track of him."

"Sirius has a lot of connections with the criminal underbelly," Arthur said. "It's likely he'll find Malfoy Manor before us."

Lupin ran a frustrated hand through his disheveled hair.

"Bloody mutt," he murmured before he too, stalked out of the kitchen.

The house shook as, for the second time, the front door slammed shut.

***

Sirius growled to himself as he apparated to Knockturn Alley, his disheveled appearance barely noticeable amidst the sea of tattered witches and wizards that roamed the dark cobblestoned streets. Silently cursing his best friend and his lovesick accusations, Sirius tried not to think about the guilt that had been plaguing him all night.

It _was_ partially his fault that Hermione was in the situation she was in, despite her own poor judgment in the matter. He had known that Alexandra was friendly with some of her darker clients, but he had seemed so sure that his blood status and his fortune would have been enough to deter her from becoming an enemy.

He hadn't counted on the woman's friendship with the powerful Selwyn family.

He stopped in front of the cracked and dirty door that seemed to blend into the rest of the dark street. A sign hung crookedly above the road: Madam Miranda's House of Fancies. Taking a deep breath, Sirius stepped inside.

The air was heady with sweet-smelling smoke, produced by the pot-bellied wizards smoking hookahs and sitting on poufs, surrounded by three or four scantily-clad witches. Sirius tried to avert his eyes from the lechery and debauchery around him, keeping his gaze on the ground as he headed toward the bar.

"Firewhiskey, straight," he told the leering, toothless bartender. "And pour it where I can see you."

The other man grimaced at the subtle accusation and all but threw the glass on the counter before pouring a stingy portion of whiskey into the glass. Sirius tossed a galleon on the bar. The bartender took it and Sirius knew he wasn't going to get any change.

"Sirius Black," a husky voice said in his ear, and Sirius turned to face a plump woman, her face heavily made up and her body poured into a dress that did nothing but magnify that she had _once_ been a great beauty. She was missing several teeth, but she still gave a wide grin at the sight of him.

"'Ello, 'andsome," she said warmly and he rewarded her with his own charming smile. "'Aven't seen you 'round 'ere in 'oo knows 'ow long. I 'eard you was gettin' married."

"Good Lord, Miranda, you certainly are the most beautiful woman in all London," Sirius said, giving the woman an affectionate kiss on each plump cheek. "And yes, I am getting married. This coming weekend."

"And already searchin' for a little extra, are we, Siri? Well, you came to the right place. It's been awhile, but I think I remember what you like."

"Actually, I'm not here to play. I'm on business. Seen 'Dung around?"

Miranda's eyes darkened.

"'Aven't seen 'im since I kicked 'im out this spring. Was payin' in Leprechaun gold, 'ee was. 'Eard 'ee was 'avin 'is fun down at Polly Draker's."

"Cheers, Miranda," Sirius said, downing the rest of his whiskey and kissing her hastily on the cheek as he started to leave.

She caught his arm.

"Siri," she said softly. "I wouldn't rely on 'Dung much anymore. Never been the same since Dumbledore died. Used to scare the girls some nights. 'Ee's gotta powerful temper these days."

Sirius smiled slightly.

"Thanks, Miranda. Appreciate the warning."

She sighed as he started out.

"Must be a special girl, if you're walkin outta 'ere without indulgin'," she called.

He smiled back at her.

"Very special. Exceptional, really. One of a kind."

She laughed.

"Ain't they all?"

Sirius stepped back into the dark street in time to walk straight into Lupin. The werewolf stumbled back, looking at Sirius before glancing at the sign above the door he just exited. His eyes flashed.

"A brothel?" he seethed. "She hasn't even been gone two hours..."

"Keep your hairnet on," Sirius interrupted. "I was looking for 'Dung."

Lupin's brow furrowed.

"Mundungus? Sirius, are you sure..."

"Yes, I'm sure," Sirius said, pushing past his friend and striding down the road.

Lupin hurried to catch up.

"What do you expect Mundungus to know that's worth risking getting ourselves killed?" he asked.

"If you're worried, go back to headquarters," Sirius snapped, stopping in front of another dark door, the sign above this one saying 'Polly Darker's Boarding House'.

Lupin said nothing as he followed Sirius inside.

"May I 'elp you gentlemen?" a squat little man with a wiry moustache asked from behind a desk in the front foyer.

"Yeah. Where's Polly?" Sirius replied.

"Ill. Came down with Magnolia Mumps. I'm in charge. What's your pleasure?"

"I need to see Mundungus Fletcher."

"We don't do no dandies 'ere, mate."

"No, you moron. I need to _see_ Mundungus Fletcher."

"Who?"

Rolling his eyes, Sirius tossed the man a small sack of galleons.

"Second floor," the man said immediately, pocketing the purse. "Fourth door on your left. 'Ere's the key."

Taking it, the two men climbed the rickety stairs to the second floor. They heard decidedly-male grunts as they passed the doors, stopping in front of the fourth door on the left. An inappropriately-loud rhythmic slapping was heard, along with grunts and a string of expletives.

"Sounds like this is the place," Lupin said dryly.

"Fucking lech," Sirius mumbled, unlocking the door and throwing it open. There, with his pants around his ankles and his body between a pair of thick thighs, was Mundungus Fletcher.

"Hello 'Dung," Sirius said, grabbing the thinner man by the scruff of his neck and throwing him against the wall. "Miss me?"

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Leave me love!_


	17. Chapter 17: An Unlikely Ally

**A/N:** Once again, I apologize for the unforgivably long wait for an update. My muse has been otherwise occupied but I'm back with this and I'm writing up a storm!

For those of you who don't know, I have a joint profile with the lovely and talented _Grande Vanilla Skim Latte_ and we're called _The Golden Duo 22_. You can link to our profile from my author's profile page, and we have 2 stories (both threesomes - one FredHermioneGeorge called _Poorly Laid Plans_ and one RemusHermioneSirius called _For the Love of Nargles_) up and we're working on a third. Please take a look!

Finally, much love to my ever-supportive beta Amy, and for her constant nagging to get this chapter written! I love you, darling!  


* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: An Unlikely Ally**

"S…S…Sirius," the tattered man stuttered as Sirius held his wand to Mundungus's throat.

"Slippery thing, aren't you, 'Dung?" Sirius said, trying to hide the amused smile that threatened to creep onto his face. "Been awhile."

"Uh…yeah…" Mundungus choked. "You…er…you look good."

"I suppose you weren't expecting me back, eh? What with being _dead_, and all."

"Look, Sirius…_nobody_ thought…I mean…'Arry saw you die, din'ee?"

"And how long after that did you start stealing from the house?"

"Listen, Sirius…I didn't mean…well, you was dead, weren't ya? And 'Arry didn't want none of them things…I didn't…gotta make a living, mate."

Unable to contain his mirth, Sirius stepped back from Mundungus, allowing the terrified man space to pull his trousers back up. Then he clapped him heartily on his bony shoulder.

"I hope you got a few galleons for some of those things, 'Dung, 'cuz Lord knows my mother paid a hefty sum for most of them." When Mundungus gave a slightly toothy half-grin of acknowledgment, Sirius stowed his wand. "Come on, mate. I'll buy you a pint. Got some things I need to talk to you about."

"Couldn't make it a nip 'a whiskey, could ya, mate?"

Lupin scoffed.

"Still bartering, Mundungus? I see some things never change."

Mundungus glanced past Sirius.

"Lupin. Didn't see ya there, mate."

"No, I daresay you didn't. And don't call me 'mate'."

"Oi!" a female voice said behind them and the three men turned to see a petite blonde witch sitting on the bed, the sheets pulled tightly around her round body. "I'm still owed fifty galleons."

"We agreed on thirty," Mundungus grumbled.

"I said we'd see how the night went, didn't I? Didn't expect to be scared out me wits mid-thrust, did I?"

"T'wasn't even worth _thirty_ galleons," Mundungus murmured, thrusting a hand into his pocket.

Sirius stopped him.

"Save your 'gold', 'Dung," he said with a knowing look before tossing a second money purse to the girl on the bed. "There's a hundred galleons in there, Miss. Take yourself to St. Mungo's and get yourself checked out. Then go to Madame Miranda's. Tell her you know me. She'll take care of you. Polly Draker doesn't take care of her girls nearly as well as she should."

The girl nodded – her eyes wide with wonder at being addressed by the infamous man – and clutched the purse to her body before scrambling immodestly out of bed. Sirius and Lupin looked away gallantly and after Lupin sent a hard glare at Mundungus's leering stare, he looked away too.

"Bless you, Mr. Black," the girl said breathlessly before scampering out of the room.

Sirius sighed, flinging an arm around Mundungus's shoulder.

"Leprechaun gold, 'Dung?" he asked, steering the man out of the room. "You knew Miranda would catch you."

"Hit a bit of a snag in me finances, as it were," Mundungus replied. "Had to improvise, see?"

A few minutes later, the three were sitting in the corner of the Hand of Glory, a seedy pub near the entrance of Knockturn Alley. When the barmaid was assured that Mundungus wasn't paying, she brought the trio a bottle of firewhiskey and three glasses that looked like they hadn't ever been cleaned. Lupin, slightly nauseated, mumbled a thorough _'Scourgify!'_ before pouring the drinks.

"So," Mundungus said, leaning back as he picked up his glass. "How can I help you gents?"

"I don't know whether you heard, 'Dung, but I'm engaged to be married," Sirius said.

"Yeah, I 'eard. To…erm…was'er name? 'ermione Granger, wa'n it?"

"Yes."

"I always thought she was a gangly 'lil know-it-all…come ta think 'a it, wa'n that what _you_ called 'er, Sirius?"

"Focus, 'Dung."

"Sorry." He downed his drink. "So you're engaged. Congratulations. Is that what you wanted to talk about?"

He motioned for Lupin to refill his glass, and Lupin shot Sirius a glare as he tipped the amber liquid out of the bottle.

"Not exactly, 'Dung," Sirius said, lowering his voice and leaning in. "See, she was abducted earlier this evening. We're pretty sure the Malfoys had something to do with it. We wanted to know if you had heard anything."

"_And_ where Malfoy Manor is," Lupin added.

"So, what do you know?" Sirius asked.

Mundungus leaned back, swirling the liquid in his glass before downing it.

"Nothing, mate. As much as you, I suppose. There were whispers 'round here, o'course. Y'know…_rumors_. Didn't know 'oo the mark was, though."

"_What_ rumors, 'Dung?" Sirius pressed, refilling Mundungus's glass.

The man shrugged.

"Dunno. Wasn't payin' much attention, see."

Sighing, Lupin stood.

"This is nothing but a waste of time, Sirius," he grumbled.

"Sit down, Moony," Sirius said, digging in his pocket. He threw some galleons on the table in front of Mundungus, whose eyes brightened slightly at the sight of the gold. "Talk, 'Dung."

The man scooped up the coins and held them in his hand, weighing them.

"Now that you mention it," he said. "I _do_ seem to remember a couple of things."

Lupin rolled his eyes as he sat back down.

"Something about the Marriage Law. Seems the young Master Malfoy 'as designs on Miss Granger. There was talk of an ambush at 'er 'en party."

"There _was_ an ambush," Lupin said, his eyes starting to glow. "Who was talking?"

"Just a few folks. Apparently someone's been passing around the galleons down here to spread the word that Draco and 'ermione was gettin' married."

"Who was passing the galleons?" Sirius asked.

"Don't rightly remember."

Sirius sighed and threw another handful of gold on the table.

"Ah yes," Mundungus said, lazily pocketing the money. "I was sittin' 'ere, you know, mindin' me own business, when 'oo should come in but Mistress Selwyn and Mistress Lestrange. Started talkin' all loud about Draco's weddin' to the little…and pardon the expression, mate…_mudblood_ 'ermione Granger. Said to keep an eye out for it in the papers."

Lupin looked at Sirius.

"They're going to do press for it? How?"

Sirius frowned, looking at Mundungus, who was pouring another generous glass of whiskey for himself.

"Where were Selena and Bellatrix coming from, 'Dung? Do you know?"

Mundungus frowned slightly in concentration, though his eyes were starting to become unfocused.

"Erm…dunno. From the left, I think."

Sirius gritted his teeth and once again produced more gold.

"They was carryin' a small paper bag," Mundungus said, once again pocketing the gold greedily. "Came out of Donovan's Apothecary. They was talkin' about some potion. Somethin' strong."

"Amortentia?" Sirius asked Lupin.

"It's possible. Donovan's been known to brew it. And if they were going to do press for the wedding, it would make sense that they would need Hermione pliable."

"Wouldn't the Imperius Curse have worked just as well?"

"You can't get married under the Imperius Curse. The bond doesn't work. Plus, Hermione's a very powerful witch. They wouldn't want to risk having her fight the curse."

Sirius nodded, looking over at Mundungus. His head was lolling back and his mouth was slightly slack.

"Oi! 'Dung!" Sirius hissed, slapping the man sharply.

"Wha?" Mundungus said groggily, sitting up.

"Where were they headed?"

"Where was 'oo 'eaded?"

"Selena and Bellatrix."

"I dunno."

"You've got enough of my gold, 'Dung, now keep talking."

"I honestly don't know, mate," Mundungus said with a shrug, drunkenly tipping more whiskey into his glass. "They're not likely to tell me, are they?"

Lupin growled.

"Honestly, Sirius, we're wasting time," he said.

Sirius looked Mundungus squarely in the eye before standing and heaving the smaller man to his feet. Whipping out his wand, Sirius slammed Mundungus down hard on the table top, wand once again at the terrified man's throat. The rest of the pub seemed not to have noticed, and those that showed an interest quickly looked away as Lupin met them with a menacing glare.

"Don't mistake my generosity for stupidity, 'Dung," Sirius said softly. "And don't take advantage of my friendship. I have no problems sending you to Azkaban for theft."

Mundungus paled.

"S…Sirius…y…you wouldn't…" he stuttered.

Sirius dug his wand harder into the man's flesh.

"Dare to test me?"

"Alright, alright…" Mundungus said and Sirius backed off slightly. "From what I understood of it, they was 'eaded to Alexandra Orion-Mulroney's office to enlist 'er 'elp with the wedding. I 'eard them tell some bloke 'ere in the corner that they would be keeping 'ermione in the dungeons of the Manor until they could control 'er."

"And where's Malfoy Manor?"

"I don't know."

Sirius and Lupin both took a menacing step forward and Mundungus cowered.

"In Wiltshire! Malfoy Manor's in Wiltshire. On Bramblebury Road, just outside of town. There's a large pair of iron gates, but they're almost impenetrable!"

"Wiltshire? Why do I know Wiltshire?" Lupin asked.

"That pub that we took James to for his twenty-first birthday. That was in Wiltshire."

"Do you think we could apparate there?"

"I dunno. I barely remember that night."

"I think I left early…"

"Oi! D'you think you could let me up, eh?" Mundungus growled.

"Oh…yeah. Sorry, 'Dung," Sirius said, taking a step back. He shot the shaking man a smile. "Thanks, mate. You've been a great help. No hard feelings, yeah?"

Without another word, he tossed the barmaid money for the firewhiskey and led Lupin out into the alley.

He was about to turn and ask his friend if he remembered where they would need to apparate to when two 'pops' sounded next to them. Both older men whipped their wands in that direction and came face-to-face with Harry and Ron.

"What are you two doing here?" Sirius hissed, pulling the younger, recognizable men into the shadows as Lupin cast around to make sure they weren't spotted. "Do you know how many people here want you dead?"

"We were looking for you," Ron said indignantly. "We got nowhere with Snape."

"Bloody Unbreakable Vow of Secrecy," Harry grumbled.

"Don't worry, we know where to go and what they're up to," Sirius said before quickly explaining what they had learned from Mundungus.

"What are we waiting for?" Ron asked when Sirius finished. "Let's go."

"It's not that simple," Sirius said. "Moony and I aren't entirely sure we remember…"

"I remember," Lupin interrupted. "Now let's go before we waste anymore time. We've got to act fast. We need to get her back _now_."

"Really?" Harry said sarcastically. "_Now_, you say? I thought I'd wait a few days just to make sure she didn't spontaneously take off on holiday!"

"Harry…" Sirius warned.

"I don't know if it's escaped your notice, but Ron and I are both fully trained Aurors and fully capable of helping out," Harry said hotly.

"We know, but…"

"Four bloody years!" Harry shouted. "Four bloody years and I _still_ get treated like a…"

"Sirius!" an angry, slurring voice shouted and the four turned to see Mundungus, brandishing his wand wildly, stumbling out of the pub. "Sirius, we're not finished yet!"

"You've got to be kidding me," Lupin mumbled, drawing his wand.

"No, Remus, stop," Sirius said. "Miranda's said his temper's gotten pretty bad. Just let it go…he's drunk."

"We're wasting time!" the werewolf growled.

"I know. But you don't want him to start throwing hexes, _believe_ me."

"Black, I'm not through with you yet!" Mundungus shouted, poking Sirius in the chest with his wand.

"Calm down, 'Dung," Sirius said calmly, slowly moving his hand toward Mundungus's wand. "You've had a bit too much to drink. Just take it easy and…"

"I will _not_ take it easy!" the man said angrily, gesturing wildly. "You come in 'ere…push me around…as if it was six years ago? Well, if it you 'aven't noticed, mate, things 'ave changed! Dumbledore's dead! We've lost. The war's over."

"No it isn't," Harry said angrily, pushing past Sirius to look Mundungus in the eye. "It isn't over until Voldemort is dead and you can go cower in a corner like you always do while the rest of us try to make a difference."

Sirius could tell that Harry was in the mood for a fight. His estranged best friend was missing, presumably to be married off to his sworn enemy, and at the moment there was very little he could do about it. Sirius knew he was itching to have a go at anyone and Mundungus was as good a target as any.

"Well," Mundungus sneered. "If it isn't 'Arry-bloody-Potter, Dumbledore's little butt boy. Still travelin' with an entourage, 'Arry? Still need a nanny to change your nappies?"

"He's drunk, Harry, he doesn't mean it," Sirius said soothingly as his godson turned a startling shade of purple that would have made his uncle proud. "We left him with a bottle of firewhiskey after bullying him a bit. It's not you he's after – it's us."

"Too right it is!" Mundungus growled, gripping his wand tighter.

"'Dung, go inside before you do something you'll regret," Sirius said, turning away from Mundungus to face the three other men.

"You can't push me around no more, Black!" Mundungus shouted. "_Stupify!_"

Sirius didn't know what happened, but suddenly Harry was pushing him out of the way and Remus and Ron were hurling hexes at a surprisingly-agile Mundungus Fletcher. It took all of two seconds for Sirius to realize that Harry had caught the stunning spell that had been intended for him and was sprawled unconscious on the ground.

"Oi! What's the ruckus…caw! It's 'Arry Potter!" a voice said and people started to pour out of the pub.

"Remus, we've got to get out of here!" Sirius shouted to his friend, who was blocking Sirius and Harry with his body as Ron tried to get everyone out of the alley.

"You know where to take him," Lupin shouted.

"Yeah," Ron said as he cast a border spell around them. "We'll be along shortly."

Heaving Harry to his feet, Sirius nodded to the pair before disapparating away.

***

Hermione was pacing back and forth in the cell, certain that she was halfway to madness as she cut a path into the dirty stone floor. She hated this – the waiting. It had been hours since the quartet from Hell had visited her and aside from the infuriatingly ill-tempered house elf that had brought her food, Hermione had been alone for those hours and the solitude and anxiety combined was slowly driving her insane.

She had stopped prodding her tattoo – it seemed useless now that she had time to reflect – and so she had taken to pacing and occasionally making an effort to apparate. At first she had done it with the hope of catching some loophole in the heavy wards, but after the first dozen tries she had simply continued for the sake of breaking the monotony of the pacing. If anyone had been watching her – which she still wasn't certain wasn't the case – they would have thought her slightly mental. And as she finally sat on the cold ground, her back once again leaning against the damp walls, she wasn't entirely sure whether they would be incorrect in that assessment.

She glanced at the tray of food, her stomach giving an almighty roar as her head started to throb. It had been a long time since she had eaten anything, and her headache was the not-so-gentle reminder that the only things she had ingested recently were the sickeningly-sweet alcoholic beverages from her hen party.

She didn't dare touch the food, though. Stupid though she might have been earlier, she wasn't about to make anything else easy for them, and she was certain the food was laced with any number of potions.

The door at the top of the stairs opened and Hermione scrambled to her feet once more, preparing herself for a string of verbal abuse or worse, physical torture. A lone figure, however, entered the room, closing the door swiftly behind them as quick footsteps sounded against the stone floor, followed by the sound of keys before the barred door slid open.

Hermione sneered as a man with short blond hair came into view.

"Malfoy," she said, disdain dripping from her voice. "Come to get a glimpse of your prize? Or are you here to admire the newest animal in the zoo?"

His gray eyes looked at her solemnly.

"This is hardly my ideal situation either, Granger," he said, taking something from his pocket and placing it on the ground. With a flick of his wand, a plush, comfortable chair materialized. "Sit, please."

Hermione had to work hard to stop her jaw from dropping to the ground as she eyed him suspiciously. Did he just say 'please'? Moreover, did he just put a full sentence together without insulting her?

"What do you want, Draco?" she asked coldly.

He sighed.

"Really, Hermione, sit," he said, catching her further off-guard by the softness of his tone. "I know you've been sitting on the floor. Just sit down and shut up so I can explain some things to you."

"I'm not a child, Malfoy," she snapped. "Nor am I an idiot. Psychological tactics don't work on me, and the 'disappearing chair' routing is a bit juvenile, even for you."

"Sit down, Granger," he growled, advancing upon her. Taking a step back, Hermione stumbled and cringed as Draco flicked his wand in her direction seconds before she toppled back. She was pleasantly surprised, however, to find her sore body cocooned in the soft comfort of the chair he had moved to catch her.

"Alright," she said as indignantly as she could while trying to suppress a groan of appreciation as her tired body melted into the soft cushions. "You've got me seated. Now…what do you want?"

He sighed again, flicking his wand once more and causing her to flinch as she steeled herself for a hex. Nothing happened, however, except another, infinitely-less comfortable chair materialized, in which he sat.

They stared at each other in tense silence before he went for his pocket again. She jumped up, ready to dodge once more, but he simply pulled a small parcel from his robes. He re-sized it and proffered it towards her.

She looked at it incredulously as she slowly sat back down and he rolled his eyes, opening it to reveal a large chunk of bread and a block of cheese.

"Eat," he said, pulling a goblet from his pocket and filling it with water from his wand before handing it to her. "You must be starving."

She held the food and water in her hand but continued to stare at him.

His nostrils flared in growing frustration.

"I know you know the food they brought you has a love potion in it," he said. "And clearly, since it's sitting untouched and you're not fawning over me, you didn't eat it. You've been here for eight hours. I'm sure you're hungry. So eat."

"And how do I know you didn't lace _this_ with Amortentia?" she asked.

He smiled wryly.

"Do you honestly think I would willingly submit myself to you mooning over me? Really, Granger, in the ten years we've known each other have I _ever_ given you an indication that I enjoyed being around you?"

"Oh, its _Granger_ now, is it?" she said. "It was 'Hermione' a moment ago."

"Yes, well, I only have so much tolerance for your infuriatingly obnoxious suspicions."

Hermione took a sniff at the food. It seemed alright. And she _had_ seen him pour the water in front of her. Still, the fact that Draco Malfoy was sitting in front of her and had been in her presence for five minutes and had yet to say anything even mildly disparaging was off-putting.

He must have noticed her hesitation, because he rolled his eyes and grabbed the bread, tearing off a bite and chewing it slowly before swallowing it.

"See?" he said. "Now do you believe me?"

Taking a tentative sip of the water, Hermione decided she would risk being manipulated or poisoned as the liquid hit her parched throat. She emptied the goblet in two gulps, delighting as the cool water splashed slightly out of the goblet and rolled down her chin.

He took the goblet from her and refilled it as she started to voraciously devour the food.

"I told you it was fine," he said, sounding slightly smug as he handed the refilled glass back to her.

She swallowed her bite.

"Why are you being nice?" she asked, taking a bite of the cheese and groaning slightly as the savory goodness rolled over her tongue. "Why are you helping me?"

"You mean, aside from my burning desire to avoid being bonded to you until the end of time?" he asked dryly. When she narrowed her eyes at him, he sighed. "You're not the only one who remembers how dark the world was when the Dark Lord was in power," he said. "I may dislike you, Granger, but I've realized over the past few years that what my father stands for can only lead to more death and destruction and in spite of what you may think of me, I am not a murderer."

"No," Hermione said softly, her mind taking her back to sixth year as Harry told them all of Draco's reluctance to kill Dumbledore. "No, I don't suppose you are."

"My father pushed my petition through the Department of Magical Marriages," he explained. "Not me. He wanted you for himself but as you know, he's already married. So I was the next best thing. He figured I'd marry you and he could still have you whenever he cared to."

"And Dolohov and Carrow?"

Draco gave a mirthless smile.

"My father can be a generous man if there's something in it for him. And he's not above trading sexual favors for status with the Dark Lord. Especially if it means causing _you_ additional pain."

Hermione shuddered. The only thing that disgusted her more than the idea of being bonded for the rest of her life to a Death Eater was the idea of being traded among them as a sick type of currency.

"How did he expect to get around the fidelity charm?" she asked, going into 'worst-case scenario' mode and hoping that the previously-reviled stipulation would be her saving grace.

Unfortunately, Draco shook his head.

"Wouldn't apply to us. After all, no one has cited _us_ for a Ministry investigation."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"The injustice of which is staggering," she murmured. Then she sighed. "So…I assume you have a plan to get me out of here?"

He nodded.

"I do," he said. "On one condition."

She arched her eyebrow.

"A condition? Really?"

"I don't think you're really in a place to be turning down favors, Granger."

She gritted her teeth.

"Fine. What's your condition?"

He leaned in closer.

"When I get you out," he whispered. "Take me with you."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Leave me love!_


	18. Chapter 18: A Few Good Men

**A/N:** Here it is, folks, the next chapter in this story that has gotten a LOT more popular than I would have ever imagined. I would just like to take this time so say a very sincere and humbled 'Thank you' to everyone who has been with this story since it's inception - and through the multiple plot changes.

My brilliant, beautiful, and sexy beta assures me that this chapter is 'up-to-snuff' in terms of the action factor, but I'm still extremely insecure about that so apologies in advance if it's not the brilliance it should be. I shall make it up to you with the smut that WILL ensue once Sirius and Hermione are married.

That said, THANK YOU AMY for your phenomenal contribution to my limited imaginative mind. You are fabulous and I worship the ground you walk upon.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: A Few Good Men**

Hermione was pacing again.

Her brain was running a marathon of thoughts and she was certain that had her brain been a living, breathing mechanism, it would have been buzzing. As it happened, her mind was only whirring in her own head. In twenty minutes, Draco Malfoy had managed to spin her world almost completely on its end by throwing two indisputably paradoxical concepts at her.

The first fact – that he, Draco, was, in fact, a good guy – should have assured her of the sudden aerodynamics of the pig population. It was the second fact, however – that he wanted to help her escape _and_ join up with the Order of the Phoenix – that had her contemplating a celestial realignment that went beyond winged swine.

Nevertheless, it seemed the sarcastic blonde's promise of assistance was the best she could hope for in this situation. She had no doubt that the Order was probably planning _something_ – at least, she clung to that hope as her overactive imagination conjured images of sexual slavery at the hands of the world's most terrifying Death Eaters – but even _she_ knew a siege of Malfoy Manor was not to be attempted without a significant amount of forethought.

She did grin, however, at the thought of the lengths with which the rest of the Order would have to go through to restrain her friends from storming the protected pureblood fortress.

The thought of them all biting at the bit to rescue her led her racing mind to Sirius. She found her thoughts had drifted to him a lot in those hours of imprisonment, despite the arrangement they had made that should have effectively quashed any romantic ideas. All of his good points, however, – his loyalty, his generosity, his ability to make her laugh – seemed tenfold in the face of possible sexual torture at the hands of some of the Ministry's Most Wanted.

She physically shuddered at the idea of Amycus Carrow, Antonin Dolohov, or Lucius Malfoy's hands on her, and silently vowed that if Draco's escape plan worked, she would never again complain about her inevitable bonding to the man who had posed for Playwitch in the magazine's most popular edition to date.

The sound of the door opening made her look up hopefully, but her heart plummeted at the sight of Bellatrix, maniacal gleam in tow, twirling her wand casually as she sauntered down the stone steps and opened the barred door. Nostrils flared, Hermione stood defiantly in front of the woman, her fingers twitching as she very much wished she had her wand.

"I see you aren't hungry, Mudblood," Bellatrix said, glancing at the uneaten tray. "Looking to lose a little of that baby fat before your wedding?"

Hermione bristled in spite of herself. The witch before her definitely shouldn't have been casting judgments about personal appearance.

"Surely your stupid Muggle parents told you it was rude to refuse food that's been offered to you?" the insane woman continued.

"I've been trying to cut Amortentia from my diet," Hermione said stoutly. "Gives me the most frightful headaches."

"Tut tut tut…such cheekiness is _most_ unattractive in a silly little girl. Still," She smiled maliciously. "Lucius was right. You are no idiot. Shame about your birth. You would have made a formidable ally."

Hermione scoffed.

"You Death Eaters are so arrogant – so assured of your superiority. What makes you so certain – had I been born of _pureblood_ parents – that I would even _consider_ aligning myself with _you_?"

Bellatrix smirked.

"You are an ambitious girl, Mudblood. We didn't appreciate it before, but now that you're older we've come to see just how ambitious you are. After all, your romantic track record speaks volumes."

"You know _nothing_ of my love life, you insane…"

"Ah ah ah, Mudblood. Manners," Bellatrix interrupted gleefully, brandishing her wand. "And I know more about your sordid past than you think I do."

"Doubtful," Hermione spat.

"Oh no? Well, I know you've opened your legs to some of the most elite of athletes. Viktor Krum – a fine choice, to be sure – and Cormac McLaggen. Then, of course, there was Oliver Wood – a step down, but he's professional and I'm sure that was all that mattered."

"I didn't actually _sleep_ with Cormac, just so you know," Hermione said bitingly, unhappy that her romantic conquests were being paraded in front of her.

"You still dated him, however briefly, which proves your early identification of influential wizards. What is he now? Junior head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports?"

"I really wouldn't know," Hermione sniffed.

"No matter. He's not nearly as influential as some of the _other_ men you've bedded. Your infuriating friends, for example? Potter and Weasley? Not intelligent or particularly powerful, but suitably well-known and well-connected, to be sure."

"I believe it was your underestimation of Harry's abilities that sent your _master_ into hiding in the first place, wasn't it?" Hermione snapped.

"Luck," the pureblood replied. "And nothing more."

"You truly are blissfully ignorant to your own stupidity, aren't you?"

"You're really not one to talk about stupidity, Miss Granger. After all, _I'm_ not the one who is having a sordid affair with a werewolf." She leaned in closer. "Or a _Muggle_."

The evil in Bellatrix's eye seemed to brighten as Hermione processed her words. Lupin, she knew, was not a particularly well-kept secret. Though cautious, they hadn't been too careful with who knew, so word was bound to get out. Bellatrix's tone on the word 'Muggle', however, held some darker meaning. There was only one Muggle the cackling witch could possibly be referring to, and Hermione prayed to whatever deity would listen that _he_ was not it.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she said, feigning ignorance as best she could as fear stirred within her.

Bellatrix's sneer, however, remained firmly upon her face.

"You were so young; I suppose I can forgive you the fact that he was a mere Muggle. But I do have to admit, Mudblood, even in your mistakes you choose wisely. A man of wealth and status…although I'm sure his wife did not approve…"

Hermione, casting wildly around for a way – any way – to get this new-found nightmare to disappear. Wandless and powerless, she did the only thing that made sense:

She slapped her.

Bellatrix stumbled back slightly, surprise and anger on her face. Hermione felt as though the world slowed. Bellatrix's eyes flashed – her wild hair crackling with electricity – and her body trembled with unrestrained rage. Hermione's eyes went to the woman's wand and she could see sparks flying from the tip as what little control Bellatrix had possessed vanished.

"How _dare_ you strike me?!" she shrieked, wielding her wand wildly. "_Cruci_ – "

"_Stupify!_" a voice called out and Bellatrix spun around just in time to see Draco's stunning spell hit her square between the eyes.

***

Sirius landed heavily on the dusty wooden floor, Harry's unconscious body slumped next to him. The Shrieking Shack, though ironically named, was undoubtedly one of the safest places in wizarding England simply because no one ever dared to go there. Though much of the credit for the general population's fear came to Lupin and his 'furry little problem,' Sirius had to hand a large portion to Dumbledore and his mild assertions that it was the 'most haunted house in Britain.' The cunning wizard definitely new how to propagate a rumor.

Heaving Harry onto the worn, dusty sofa, Sirius stood and brushed the filth from his robes as he looked around. It hadn't changed much from the dilapidated pile of wood it had been when he had first encountered Harry, Ron, and Hermione nearly eight years earlier. Considering all that had occurred since that night, when a clever little witch had broken several laws – including some natural ones – to save his life in what would become the first in a long line of rescue missions his future wife had successfully completed, Sirius felt everything had happened almost a full lifetime ago.

Given his immediate past, the assertion wasn't too far off the mark.

His thoughts ran from the buck-toothed, bushy-haired, bright-eyed thirteen-year-old he had met all those years ago to the pert-nosed, curved, untamed twenty-one-year-old he knew now. Though he would not admit it, she had been on his mind constantly for the past week – especially after she introduced the idea that, in his opinion, would curtail any romantic thoughts that might brew between them.

His body, however, had been shouting at him repeatedly for agreeing to such an arrangement. No kissing? Ever? After the way her lips felt on his during that one stolen moment a week earlier? Was he crazy?

Perhaps.

He had become painfully aware of how attached he was getting to Hermione. Her kidnapping notwithstanding, he had found that he was troubled when she wasn't around. He supposed it had something to do with the way she had calmed him when she and Ginny had found him at the house earlier that week. Though he had gone back to Grimmauld Place once he and Harry had made up – Hermione had decided it would be better for him to wait until _after_ the wedding to move in – he had not had a full night sleep. Hermione's presence in the Grimmauld Place – though by no means fully comforting – had been enough to ensure him at least one or two nights of peaceful rest.

He could sense her absence, and it scared him that he was suddenly so attuned to her.

A 'crack' behind him got his attention and he turned to see Ron brushing his robes off, a superficial scratch on his forehead leaving an intimidating trail of blood down the side of his freckled face. His knuckles were scratched and his robes were ripped, but otherwise he seemed unscathed.

"What happened?" Sirius asked as Ron went to tend to a slowly-reviving Harry.

"Things got ugly," the redhead said simply. "Apparently Mundungus had some friends in the pub who weren't happy with how you treated him."

Another 'crack' paused the explanation as Lupin came into view, his tattered robes also torn and his left arm limp as he held his right hand to his bicep. He had a bruise on the side of his face and his lip was bleeding, but his eyes told Sirius that all of these were nothing compared to what he had dealt out.

"Are you alright?" Sirius asked, cringing slightly at the gaping wound Lupin revealed as he moved his hand from his bicep to stow his wand.

"Every bloody drunkard who could wield a fucking wand came pouring out of that Godforsaken pub," Remus growled, sitting on the edge of the moth-eaten sofa as Harry slowly sat up to give him room. "And when their hexes didn't work, it broiled down to fisticuffs."

"Charming, the lot of them," Ron added sarcastically as he gave Harry a glass of water he that he had transfigured from a piece of shattered widow pane.

"I'm going to _kill_ Mundungus if I ever see him again," Harry croaked as the color slowly started to return to his face. "That's three times now that he's fucked me over."

"I'm sure it's habit by now," Sirius said wryly. "He's never been too good at picking his battles."

"Yeah, well, I owe him a few choice words. And a punch or two," Ron said, wincing as Harry leant heavily on his shoulder, trying to stand.

"You three need to see Poppy," Sirius said.

"We're fine," Harry said, ignoring Ron's withering look. "We need to get Hermione."

"As much as I agree that we need to get Hermione back as soon as possible, I hardly think any of us are in a state to stomp into Malfoy Manor," Lupin said, though from the strain in his voice it sounded as though he would go through fire and brimstone, despite his injuries, to get her back. "Ron and I are bleeding and you can barely stand by yourself. Plus, we'll need reinforcements."

"I'm _fine_," Harry said, removing his hand from Ron's shoulder as if to prove it, only to grip the edge of the sofa when he felt himself starting to fall. "And if _you_ don't want to go get her, that's just fine. Go lick your wounds."

"Harry," Ron said, his eyes slightly wide at his best friend's fury.

Lupin bristled.

"I want to get her back as much – if not more – than you do, Harry. I just think we should do it in a less reckless manner than rushing in there without a plan. That will only succeed in getting us caught or worse, killed," he growled, his temper starting to flare again.

"We can take whoever's guarding Hermione," Harry said savagely. "It's only Malfoy and a handful of other Death Eaters. But it might not be for long, so…"

"You underestimate Lucius, Harry," Sirius said quietly. "He is not an idiot. And where there is Lucius, there is almost assuredly Bellatrix, who would kill you as soon as look at you. And never, _ever_ underestimate the power of Selena Selwyn."

"All the more reason for us to act now!" Harry shouted.

"And do what?" Lupin shouted back. "Storm in like a bunch of cowboys and assume they'll let us walk away with her? Think, Potter."

"Do _you_ have a better idea, _professor_?"

Sirius put his hand on Harry's shoulder.

"We need a plan, but I think we should continue this conversation up at Hogwarts so the three of you can get medical attention. We cannot lay siege to Malfoy Manor with just the four of us. Trust me, Harry; it's a pretty big coup that we found out where it is. Kingsley will want to move on this, but not while you're barely able to take a step without falling."

"I told you, I'm perfectly…"

"You're _not_ fine, Harry, so stop being an arse and listen to reason!" Lupin shouted.

"But the things they could be doing to her…"

"Hermione is a very powerful little witch, Harry," Sirius said soothingly. "Moreover, she knows how to take care of herself. My guess is that she's giving them so much hell, they're regretting taking her in the first place."

He smiled in spite of himself at the image of Hermione's defiant face, her full lips pursed, her hazel eyes flashing.

A tight knot formed in his stomach at the idea of Lucius or Draco Malfoy touching her. From the look on his friend's face, Sirius was sure Lupin was thinking the same thing because his eyes flashed dangerously to a brilliant amber. Sirius felt an irrational wave of possessiveness for his fiancée wash over him. Hermione was his, _Sirius's_, responsibility now. Not that Hermione was anyone's _responsibility_, but damnit, if anyone should have the dangerous glint in his eye, shouldn't it be _him_?

"She's been gone for eight hours, Sirius," Lupin said softly, and Sirius could see his friend's brain turning into the direction of Harry's recklessness. "Do you honestly think they've done _nothing_?"

"Finally!" Harry shouted, but he was silenced by a look from Ron.

"Moony," Sirius said, slightly pleading. "You're bleeding. _Ron's_ bleeding. Harry can barely move. I'm worried about her too but we must be _reasonable_…"

"_Reasonable_?!" Harry shouted. "When have _you_ ever been _reasonable_?"

"Since I learned that I was going to have to get married and possibly have children with a woman who is vastly superior to me in every way!" Sirius shouted back at his godson, losing his cool as he let his emotions get the better of him.

There was a tense silence as Sirius realized the implications of what he said and how he said it. Turning to look at his best friend, he saw Lupin's eyes cloud over with a pain he had never seen before. The werewolf's jaw tensed and Sirius saw him stand up just a little straighter as he looked him in the eye.

"Tell me truthfully," Lupin said, his voice level. "How long have _you_ been in love with Hermione?"

***

Hermione stood staring at Draco for a long moment before she got enough of her wits about her to jump out of the open cell door. She caught her wand as Draco tossed it to her and looked down at the unconscious witch on the floor. She contemplated taking the woman's wand, but she didn't want to stay there any longer than necessary.

"Nice one," she said to Draco as he approached his insensible relative. "Thank you."

"Thank me when we're out of here," he said gruffly. "When I went to get your wand I heard Mother saying she was going to come down here with your potion, so we can no longer rely on going out the front door."

"It's never easy, is it?" Hermione mumbled, looking up at the stone steps and wondering if she had the energy to risk an escape through the house anyway.

As if fate had heard her musings and decided to change her luck, the door at the top of the stairs opened and Narcissa – armed with a goblet – came into view. Draco quickly pulled Hermione into the shadows, their backs pressed firmly against the wall.

"There's an underground passage here," he whispered as they watched Narcissa approach the cell. "It leads a mile out past the wards. There's only one guard and tonight it's Goyle. I gave him mead laced with twylar essence in case we needed to use the passage. He shouldn't be a problem, but I don't know how long the essence will last."

A manic scream made them both jump.

"Run!" Draco instructed, pushing Hermione towards a dark corridor a few feet from them. The two darted in, Hermione scrambling against the slick walls and tripping over stones as Draco struggled behind her.

Neither dared to light their wands.

In the dark, stumbling through the centuries of decay, Hermione felt oddly comforted by Draco's presence behind her. He wasn't perfect, but he hadn't let her down yet and that was all that mattered for the moment.

After a few breathless minutes of jogging down the passageway, Draco caught Hermione's arm. Panting, they paused to catch their breath. Not normally winded by running a few thousand feet, Hermione could feel her hunger and fatigue starting to catch up with her – though she wasn't going to complain about the former as Draco looked down the tunnel.

"Have you given any thought to where we're going to go _after_ we get through here?" he asked, his eyes still trained on the darkness behind them.

"Me?" she asked. "This was _your_ plan, remember?"

She could feel him roll his eyes.

"It's not like I'm going to be welcomed with open arms to most of the places I frequent, Hermione, _especially_ if I have you in tow."

"This doesn't sound particularly well thought-out, Malfoy."

"I didn't hear you complaining as you scrambled out of your _cell_, Granger."

"I just think…"

"_Draco!_"

Bellatrix's voice echoed loudly off the walls and was followed by a barrage of spells that ricocheted off the walls. Draco and Hermione both ducked as a flash of angry red light flew past their heads. Hermione was certain it had gotten close enough to singe her hair.

Stones started to crumble from the decaying ceiling, hitting the ground and scattering in different directions. Both Hermione and Draco jumped just in time as a heavy stone fell with a 'crash' from the ceiling, smashing on the floor mere inches from where the pair had been standing.

"You know, Draco, I _really_ hate your aunt," Hermione seethed as they took off down the corridor once more, forgoing the idea of remaining in the dark as they held their lit wands aloft.

They hurdled over debris as Bellatrix's mad laughter followed them like an eerie tune that wouldn't go away. She was getting closer and it took everything Hermione possessed not to just turn and cast a spell that would close the cave in on top of her.

"I'm going to get you, you filthy little blood-traitor!" Bellatrix squealed. "You defy our master for a Mudblood?"

"He's no master of mine!" Draco shouted back, hurling a hex behind him that bounced off the walls, causing the rock to shatter.

"You wanna play with me, little baby boy? _Crucio!_"

Hermione grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him out of the way as Bellatrix's curse flashed by them.

"Thanks," he said.

"Yeah," she replied, tired and fuming. She had reached the end of her tether. She was hungry, sleep-deprived, and running for her life with a man who – one hour ago – had been one of her most hated enemies.

'Displeased' would be an understatement.

"_Reducto!_" she shouted. She heard the distinct rumble of falling rocks and grabbed Draco's arm. "Let's go!"

The earth shook as the stones started to fall around them, and Hermione tried to ignore the scream of pain that floated through her ears down the hall. Hermione tried to curtail her hope that the manic witch had been buried beneath several tons of stone, but found herself slightly gleeful at the idea that Bellatrix was trapped and therefore unable to pursue.

Her joy, however, was short-lived as a stone fell in front of them. She had been able to hurdle it but Draco was not so lucky and was sent sprawling forward just as another stone fell, hitting his shoulder. He cried out in pain and Hermione ran toward him, feeling the rumble of falling stones getting closer and hoping against hope that she could get him up and on his feet before they got caught.

"Go, Granger," Draco said as he grasped his shoulder. "This will have been completely pointless if you get caught."

"Good thing I don't plan on getting caught," she said as she pulled him to his feet. "_Incarcerus!_"

She allowed the chords to wrap around her and Draco's body, binding them together so he could leverage his weight against hers.

"My leg and collarbone are probably broken, as, I'm sure, are several ribs," Draco groaned, trying to keep up with her urgent pace despite his injuries. "I'm slowing you down. You should have left me. Must you always play the plucky heroine?"

"It's a habit, and you've never been good casting for the tragic hero," she replied, her arm supporting him as she wrapped it around his waist. "Come on, we're almost there."

Panting and squinting in the approaching dawn, they fell into the bright forest clearing, catching their breath as they lay side-by-side on the ground. The only sound was that of birds chirping and Goyle's quiet snores as the giant heap of a man sat on a stool at the entrance way, completely oblivious to the earth's vibrations beneath him as – finally – the passageway caved in.

Then all hell broke loose.

The sound of three 'cracks' punctured the silence and Hermione jumped to her feet, groaning as Draco's weight anchored her arm down until he struggled up on his own. Selena, Lucius, and Narcissa had materialized, their wands on the two of them. Selena had a calm sort of stillness in her eyes, though it screamed murder, as Narcissa and Lucius regarded their son with a cool contempt. Hermione had been on the receiving end of that look, but she was certain by the sudden tension in Draco's body that he was not used to it being directed at him.

Goyle, who had started at the sound of the apparition, had jumped to his feet, his wand flailing wildly as he tried to assess just what he had missed.

"Sleeping on the job, Gregory. How very irresponsible of you," Selena said coolly. "This should teach you a lesson. _Crucio!_"

Hermione flinched as Goyle cried out in pain before Selena let him slump to his hands and knees.

"If you have an exit strategy, now would definitely be the time to implement it," Hermione murmured to Draco.

But the young pureblood's eyes were not on Hermione. They were settled defiantly on his father's cold gaze, gray eyes surveying gray eyes with a measure of wintry indifference that – had she been a lesser being – would have pierced Hermione through her heart. Draco continued to stare almost regally at his father, despite his continued struggle to remain upright, and Hermione had to marvel at the look of aristocratic arrogance the pair of wizards shared.

"Draco," Lucius said, his tone sharp enough to cut through glass. "You disappoint me."

"The feeling is mutual," Draco replied, his tone equally as sharp.

"I can't believe you would risk our name – our very lives – for this Mudblood whore," Lucius went on.

Hermione took the opportunity – while Draco commanded the attention – to survey the situation. They were two against four – not promising odds when one of them was severely injured – and Narcissa seemed to shake with restrained rage. Hermione briefly wondered whether Bellatrix had actually been caught in the cave in before she realized something she should have realized five minutes earlier.

The trifecta of evil had apparated. Which meant the wards were down.

" – Dark Lord's wrath knows no bounds."

Hermione glanced at her unlikely ally to see his face in anguish and it was then she understood what it was he was giving up. He no longer had a family – and most likely, friends – and he was risking his life to take her back to a group of people who would be happier to see him dead than alive.

"Would you leave us to suffer it?" Narcissa was pleading, playing on Draco's continued insecurities.

"Grip my arm, Draco," Hermione murmured, noticing his resolve starting to crumble in the face of his mother's compelling performance of maternal love.

"We can always tell him you didn't mean to do it. You didn't, did you…son?" Lucius said.

"Draco…grip my arm," Hermione said, more urgent as she saw Selena's focus start to shift.

"No one has to know this happened, darling," Narcissa crooned.

"For God's sake, Malfoy, now or I'm leaving you here!" Hermione shouted.

Draco gripped her arm and a second later they disapparated to the one place Hermione knew was safe.

***

An awkward silence fell as the two Marauders looked at each other, neither wanting to be the one that blinked first. Sirius felt his heart pounding as he watched Lupin's eyes flick over him, trying to assess whether or not Sirius was being truthful. There were very few times when Sirius was able to pull one over on the perceptive man, and he feared that this would not be one of those times.

"Answer the question, Sirius," Lupin said. "How long?"

"Remus, I'm _not_ in love with her," Sirius said, the intensity of the werewolf's gaze too much as he looked away, trying to play it off as a paternal concern for Ron and Harry. "I care about her, that's all. She's an important member of our family and…"

"And you're in love with her," Lupin said.

"So what if he is?" Harry asked hotly. "What did you expect? They're getting _married_, Lupin! This isn't some silly little arrangement. This is permanent!"

"Harry…" Sirius tried, but Lupin shook his head.

"He's right," he said, sounding dejected. "You and Hermione are going to get married and eventually you'll realize you're perfect for each other and this fucking law will be a moot point because it's not like you would want to end the marriage anyway."

"Moony…"

"No, Sirius," Lupin said. "Don't."

There was a silence so tense that the sudden 'crack' of apparition made them all jump. Four wands whipped to center of the room but dropped quickly as they processed the identity of the disheveled, curly-haired brunette who stood clinging to a bloodied and broken Draco Malfoy.

Hermione blinked as she registered that she and Draco were not, in fact, alone in the Shrieking Shack as she had anticipated. Once she realized who the four faces around her were, however, she broke into a large smile.

"Hello, boys," she said. "Merlin, am I glad to see you."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Leave me love!_


	19. Chapter 19: A Disastrous Hitch

**A/N:** Da da da DAH! *to be sung like trumpet fanfare* The next installment of this epic work-in-progress. Thanks so much for those patient souls who have stuck with this through the long wait and constant promises. I can tell you I have the first 2 paragraphs of the next chapter written already, so hopefully you'll be seeing another one sooner rather than later. :-)

I dedicate this chapter to _moonyNZ_, who has been so fantastically patient with this story.

As always, much love and affection to my awesome beta. You rock, Amy!

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: A Disastrous Hitch**

The Shrieking Shack sat in deathly silence as the six current occupants all stared at each other, wands trained as looks of confusion, relief, annoyance, and anger crossed their features, each face a unique canvas of a different emotion as the only sound in the room was Draco's attempts to keep standing as he gripped Hermione's arm.

"So," Remus said, slowly lowering his wand. "It would seem you're alright." He paused. "Are you?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a slight smile, her body lightening significantly as she saw relief in his eyes. "Just a little bumped and bruised."

"Thank Merlin," Sirius said, coming toward her with outstretched arms before he could help himself. She, however, put her hand up, her eyes darkening.

"You," she said tensely, narrowing her eyes as she poked him hard in the chest with her wand. "Didn't I _tell_ you Alexandra was bad news?"

Sirius immediately felt his temper flare.

"I didn't see you complaining when she was taking care of all those details you didn't want to do."

Her eyes widened.

"Are you _defending_ her?!"

"What? No! I'm just saying you weren't so suspicious when she was doing what you wanted."

"Well, I'm sorry, Sirius. I was so busy trying to change our country's political policies to notice out wedding planner plotting my _abduction_!"

"Don't lay this all on me. _You're_ the one that walked out into an abandoned alley with her _moments_ after Luna _warned_ you about her!"

"She was telling me we didn't have a location for our wedding! I was a bit preoccupied _panicking_, thank you very much!"

"For the love of God, woman, take responsibility for once! You made a stupid mistake! That's right, ladies and gents, the Great Hermione Granger made a mistake! Admit to it!"

Hermione's nostrils flared as she stood defiantly in front of her fiancé. His words stung – though not nearly as much as the fact that there was a lot of truth to them – and her eyes flashed as he stared stubbornly back at her, his face equally defiant.

Then she sighed.

"You're right. It _was_ stupid," she admitted. "And I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well…I'm sorry I didn't listen to you in the first place," he replied.

He looked at her for a few seconds before taking a tentative step towards her. She smiled, allowing him to envelope her in his arms. Once again he was struck by just how well she fit there and how much his heart had soared when she had appeared before him unscathed. He didn't want to acknowledge that Remus and the boys could be right about his feelings, but he also knew that he could no longer ignore the fact that there _were_ feelings brewing within him for the brilliant little witch.

"I'm glad you're alright," he whispered into her matted hair, his pulse racing as he felt her lips curl into a smile against his collarbone.

"Um…" Draco said, who – by nature of still being physically attached to Hermione – was trying to avoid being pulled into Sirius's armpit. "Do you mind? You don't exactly smell like a bouquet of roses, Black."

"Sorry," Sirius said, stepping back as his Hermione-infused brain took him several seconds to process just who his fiancée was attached to.

Harry and Ron, however, had not missed this and their wands were pointed intently at Malfoy's chest.

"'Mione," Ron said, his voice cracking with barely-restrained rage. "What the _fuck_ is he doing here?"

Hermione gripped Draco's head and quickly ducked him out of the way as a hex from Harry's wand singed the pureblood's disheveled blonde hair. Sirius quickly leapt around the two to restrain Harry, who seemed intent on causing Draco as much harm as possible – either magically or physically. Sirius wasn't exactly thrilled himself by the fact that Draco was there either, but he gave Hermione the benefit of the doubt for knowing what she was doing by attaching herself to him. Remus seemed to think the same thing as he lowered his wand slightly.

Harry, however, was not as convinced.

"I want you to give me one reason why I shouldn't kill him right now," Harry seethed, struggling against his godfather slightly but trusting Ron – who hadn't lowered his wand – would finish the job if needed.

"He saved my life," Hermione explained. "And he put himself in a considerable amount of danger doing so – as you can clearly see. I'd be happy to tell you the tale but we don't have that kind of time. So for now, _be nice_, because he's seeking refuge with the Order. And he's under _my_ protection," she added, sending the boys her penetrating stare.

"We'll behave if _he_ does," Ron mumbled, stowing his wand reluctantly.

"I don't know if it's escaped your _penetrating_ observation, Weasley, but I'm not exactly in much of a state to take you lot on at the moment," Draco said sarcastically, his wand gripped weakly in his hand.

"He needs to get to Madame Pomfrey," Hermione said somewhat redundantly. She frowned slightly as she saw both Ron and Remus bleeding. "And from the looks of things, so do you. What happened?"

"It's a long story," Sirius said. "Let's get up to the castle and find McGonagall and then I'll explain."

Hermione shook her head with a smile as she sent off a patronus toward Hogwarts.

"I leave you alone for a few hours…" she teased, trying to shift Draco's weight but finding herself buckling as her own fatigue caught up with her.

"Maybe you should let someone else help Mr. Malfoy," Remus suggested softly, stopping after he took a few steps forward with the intent to help her straighten up, only to find Sirius already there.

"Ron and I will take him," Harry said, eyeing Draco with ill-disguised suspicion. "We'll make sure he's protected."

"And who's gonna protect me from _you_, Potter?" Draco asked, easing into the sofa as Sirius severed the bond between him and Hermione.

"Lupin and I will take Malfoy," Ron said, ignoring Harry's glare. "Sirius and 'Mione can help you."

"For the tenth time, I'm…"

"Yes yes, you're fine, alright. Think of them as back-up then," Ron grumbled, moving over to the sofa to allow Sirius to once-again bind Draco to a more able body.

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Am I missing something? Since when are you so worried about my welfare, Harry?" she asked, flicking her eyes over her best friend with thinly-masked bitterness. Though she loved him like a brother, the fact that he had spent a full week giving her the silent treatment made her less amenable to his mood swings.

"I…er…" the boy-who-lived stuttered, the wind deflating from his sails a bit as his face pinked in sheepish remorse.

"He's sorry," Ron explained, holding Draco up as Remus attached himself to the blonde's other side. "He's been a right prat and he won't do it again."

Hermione smiled in spite of herself.

"Yes he will," she said, patting Harry gently on the shoulder so signify her easy forgiveness. The man smiled slightly.

"Yeah, I probably will," he agreed. "I _am_ sorry, though, 'Mione. I was just so mad that you didn't tell me."

"I understand," she said. "And I'm sorry for not telling you in the first place."

"I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't."

"Well, I should have at least…"

"As heart-warming as these separate love fests are, Granger, may I remind you that my collarbone is coming dangerously close to slicing through my throat?" Draco said as he tried to adjust to standing between two much-taller men.

"Wish it would slice through your vocal chords, give us all a rest," Ron grunted, wincing slightly as Draco's shifting put pressure on his bruised body.

Hermione hurried forward.

"I can take him, Ron, if it's easier…"

"Damnit, woman, _march_!" Ron growled and Hermione jumped before fixing her ex-boyfriend with a glare.

"Ronald, I will _not_ be spoken to like…"

"Do you really think _now_ is the best time, Granger?" Draco asked, and had she not witnessed Draco's heart-breaking decision to sever ties with everything he had ever known, Hermione would have yelled at him for interfering. But the pleading look on his face was too much, and she reigned in her annoyance and nodded, turning and leading them all out into the tunnel that snaked toward the grounds.

It wasn't until they had made it a few feet in that Hermione realized she was stumbling more than usual. Looking down, she realized the shoes she had been wearing – ankle-high leather boots that _had_ gone perfectly with the now-torn, bloodied, and dirty ensemble she had worn to her hen party – had also been ripped and the heel had broken. Sighing, Hermione tried to continue on but between her hunger, her fatigue, and her now-substandard footwear, she found herself gripping at roots every few feet to keep herself upright.

Then she felt herself being lifted into a pair of strong arms and cradled to a warm body. Squealing slightly in surprise, her arms flew around the neck of the gallant gentleman and she looked up into the sparklingly mischievous silver eyes of her smirking husband-to-be.

"Honestly, kitten, if you're going to trip all over yourself, it'll be Christmas before we even reach the grounds," he said, his smirk widening as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"I am perfectly capable of walking by myself, thank you very much," she huffed.

"Of course you are. But since you _insisted_ on rescuing _yourself_ from Malfoy Manor, humor me with a few moments of knight-in-shining-armor chivalry."

Hermione smiled slightly.

"Well," she said as she glanced back to where Remus and Ron were struggling with Draco while Harry brought up the rear, his emerald eyes burning holes into the back of the pureblood's head. "I _did_ have help."

"Yes, well, it looked your rescuer needed rescuing."

"You know what they say: if you want something done right, send a woman. Otherwise it just gets mucked up."

He regarded her with a tender smile as his feet carried them automatically around fallen rocks and tree roots, having spent so many years navigating the path that it was second-nature now.

"You really are a phenomenal witch," he said softly.

For a moment it seemed like he was going to kiss her, and Hermione held her breath, steeling herself to pull back as her body told her to surge forward. Luckily – or unluckily, depending on the direction her whirring brain was going at any particular moment – they reached the end of the tunnel, and Hermione jumped out of Sirius's arms and back onto the cold ground.

"Think you could carry _me_ next, Sirius," Harry teased as Hermione shimmied up the exit to freeze the Whomping Willow. "My shoes are _awfully_ uncomfortable."

"Shut it, Potter," Sirius replied, though he couldn't help but smirk as Harry's taunts reminded him of James. "Or I'll carry you to the lake and feed you to the Giant Squid."

Ron and Draco chuckled but Remus looked resolutely ahead, trying to ignore the banter as he helped his charge through the passage. Sirius tried to figure out something to say – to try and ease his best friend – but for the first time in a very long time, Sirius Black was at a loss for words.

When he got out to the grounds, he found Hermione standing barefoot in the grass, looking up at the clear blue skies. He smiled slightly as he remembered the newfound reverence for nature he had had when he first escaped from Azkaban, and then the Veil. He was certain she was savoring those beautiful breaths of fresh air despite only being imprisoned for a few hours.

A flash of pale light swirled around them suddenly and all of them – save Draco, who couldn't – pulled out their wands. The light, however, manifested itself in the form of a very prim-looking cat. They all knew who it was immediately from the square markings around its eyes.

"All the students are still in their houses," Professor McGonagall's voice issued from the patronus. "I've ordered an full lock-down of Hogwarts so when you get inside come straight to my office _immediately_."

And then the cat disappeared.

"Is it just me, or is she overeating just a bit?" Ron asked.

"I suppose you can't be too careful, but that _does_ seem a _bit_ extreme," Hermione agreed.

"I don't know what she thinks is going to happen…" Sirius started but he was interrupted by a loud cry of pain from Draco. They all turned to look at him as his body shook and buckled, his attention focused on his right forearm. As Remus lifted his sleeve, they all gasped in horror as his Dark Mark bubbled and smoked, the black ink seeming to eat away at the very flesh on the man's arm.

At the same time, the sky started to cloud and a cold wind whipped around them as a low, menacing laugh echoed over the hills.

"I suppose _this_ is what she expected to happen," Remus said, lifting Draco into a fireman's carry as Ron cut his bond with them to grip Harry's arm, all but dragging the still-struggling man up the grassy hills toward the main doors.

Hermione and Sirius sprinted ahead, getting to the doors and heaving them open just as Filch and Professor Flitwick hobbled over, getting ready to seal and ward the castle.

"We've got some injuries coming," Hermione informed her former professor as Filch grumbled something that sounded like 'another ruddy circus' under his breath. "Sirius and I are going to find Professor McGonagall."

"She's in her office, Miss Granger," the professor squeaked. "I trust you remember the way. I will send the others after you. Go."

Sirius and Hermione didn't have to be told twice as they mounted the stairs two at a time, skidding around corners and hurtling down hallways until they reached the stone gargoyle that sat in front of the headmistress's office. Coming to a stop, they both came to the same revelation.

They didn't know the password.

"Bugger," Hermione said. "Er…lemon drops?"

"Bertie Bott's," Sirius said.

"Chocolate Frogs?"

"Droobles."

"Licorice Snaps."

"Ton-Tongue Toffees."

"Sirius!"

They continued guessing as the rest of their ragged party joined them, each sending different candies toward the stone gargoyle. The statue stood unmoving until Sirius's temper started to flare up again.

"Open up, you gigantic hunk of marble, or I'll blow you off your pedestal," he threatened, pulling out his wand. The gargoyle shivered visibly but remained steadfast at his guard.

"I don't think threatening it will do the slightest bit of good," Hermione said to Sirius, grasping his hand in hers before he could make good on his threat, and the six of them watched the gargoyle as they each thought of something different to say to the statue.

"Honeyduke's Chocolate Surprise," Remus guessed, having spent most of his time enumerating the candy shop's impressive range of chocolate bars.

"Fortescue's Frozen Fudge?" Hermione suggested, wondering if ice-cream counted as candy.

"Fizzing Whizzbees," Ron said for the fifth time.

"Did anyone think that it might not be candy?" Draco asked, his body sagging slightly as he leaned against Remus. Blood was trickling down his arm and Hermione knew if he didn't get medical attention soon, things could turn worse for him.

Harry looked at Sirius and Hermione.

"I hate to admit it, but he's right," he said. "After all, _McGonagall's_ the new headmistress. I don't think she shared Dumbledore's sweet tooth."

They all looked at each other, finding themselves dumbfounded in the face of trying to decode the older woman's password.

Luckily, they didn't have to wait for long.

"How many Gryffindors does it take to guess a password?" a snide voice rang and they all looked up to see Snape approaching them, cloak billowing around his heels.

"Severus, I'm really not in the mood," Hermione said. "What's the password?"

"Welcome back, Miss Granger. I trust you're well?"

"Snivellus, we're under a bit of a time crunch, so make yourself useful instead of snarking about, will you?" Sirius hissed, his hand twitching in Hermione's as he tried to stop himself from reaching for his wand once more.

Snape heaved a melodramatic sigh.

"You Gryffindors, always drama…"

"Draco's injured, Severus," Remus said, nodding to the pureblood's near-unconscious form. "We need to see Minerva."

Taking in Draco's appearance, Snape swept wordlessly in front of the gargoyle.

"_Tabby_," he said and the statue, looking somewhat relieved that it was still intact, jumped aside to reveal the spiraling staircase.

"Of course it would be something that simple," Ron murmured.

"There you are!" the older professor's voice sounded crisply as the now-seven of them trooped into the office. "I feared you'd been caught in the flurry that is currently going on outside."

Instinctively, they all looked out the window to see the sky dark and the wind howling as half-a-dozen dark figures stalked menacingly at the gates, throwing curses at the Aurors who were arriving by the second in front of them. Hermione could make out Moody, Kingsley, and Tonks hurling hexes and shouting orders to the new arrivals.

"We should be out there," Harry said, still panting slightly from his exertion and leaning heavily on the edge of Professor McGonagall's desk.

"Don't be stupid, Potter," the headmistress snapped. "You'd be dead before we could bat an eye and _then_ where would we be?"

Hermione watched Harry bristle, but even he was wary of talking back to the fierce witch in front of him.

"First thing's first," Professor McGonagall continued after she had assessed the seven of them. Walking over to the fireplace, she grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the flames. "Poppy? A moment, if you please. Bring your kit."

A few seconds later, the hassled medi-witch stepped through the flames, black bag in hand.

"Craig Johnson was in with a sprained ankle again. You'd think he would take after his sister's flying talents, but Madame Hooch says…" She was babbling as she dusted off her uniform, but stopped when she looked up, taking in the motley crew in front of her.

She sighed.

"Well, I suppose it's been too long since you and your friends were in my care, Mr. Potter. I had almost gotten used to a calm, uneventful school year," she said, walking over to where Ron stood and examining the scratch on his head.

"Mr. Malfoy is in need of your attention first," Snape said as he helped Remus lower Draco into a cot they had transfigured. "I will deal with the superficial wounds."

Ron glared into space as Snape walked over to him and pressed his wand to the redhead's forehead with a little more force than was necessary.

"Miss Granger, if you could explain what happened – starting with your abduction," Professor McGonagall said, leading Hermione to one of the chairs that sat in front of the desk as Madame Pomfrey handed her and Harry a Pepper-Up Potion.

"Er…well…Alexandra – our wedding planner – lured me outside under the pretense of talking about our wedding. She told me you had owled her saying the board of governors had disallowed the wedding. When she got me outside, someone knocked me out from behind and took me to Malfoy Manor," Hermione explained.

"Is your head alright?" Sirius asked, running his hand gingerly over her head as she swallowed her potion. Coughing as the liquid worked its magic, she winced when his hand brushed the bruised lump on the back of her skull.

"I'll be fine. It's nothing now."

"Still, I think you should…"

"If we could please continue," Professor McGonagall interrupted, fixing Sirius with a look he hadn't received since his school days but still left him feeling cold. "Miss Granger, I would hope you know that if something like that were to happen, I would owl you personally."

"Yes, I had...um…figured that out while I was admonishing myself in my cell."

Professor McGonagall smiled slightly and nodded for her to continue her tale.

Hermione went on to explain Lucius and Selena's plan – including the publicity – and of Draco's confession and their subsequent escape. Everyone seemed very worried at the fact that Bellatrix knew about Nicolas, but her friends were slightly appeased when Hermione told them that the crazed Lestrange did not make an appearance in the clearing after the cave-in.

"Do you think she escaped?" Snape asked from where he was healing Remus's arm.

"I don't know," Hermione admitted. "But I did hear her scream in pain after I sent the curse."

Professor McGonagall, wringing her hands, looked up at the wall where Dumbledore's portrait had been watching them with rapt attention. Hermione wondered if she'd ever get used to seeing his face again even after five years of its physical absence.

"What should we do, Albus?" Professor McGonagall asked, looking at Draco with an almost-maternal worry as Madame Pomfrey silently repaired the wheezing man's broken bones, the gauze around his arm doing little to contain the blood that was seeping out of the wound.

"Phineas," Dumbledore said to the dour-looking man in black to his immediate right. "Go to your portrait in Malfoy Manor and see what you can find out about the situation with your niece. Armando," he addressed to the flamboyantly-dressed redheaded man to his left. "Go to your portrait at the Burrow and find Molly. Ask her to come quickly."

Both men nodded and left their frames.

"You had a relative that was a headmaster?" Hermione asked Ron.

"Distant relative," he said. "But yeah. Percy used to keep the portrait in his room as motivation until the twins drew an inerasable black moustache on it. Threw it out the window. Dad hung it above the fireplace when Dumbledore reinstated the Order."

Hermione smiled at the idea of the twins defacing something that represented the authority they disliked and dismissed while at school.

"Thank you, Albus," Professor McGonagall said to the smiling portrait, seeming to find her confidence again under the knowledge that he was there to help out whenever she needed it.

Hermione found herself slightly dazzled by the show of humanity in her favorite professor, reminding her that Professor McGonagall was, in fact, human like the rest of them.

"Severus," Poppy said as Harry reluctantly swallowed the Pepper-Up Potion after his reluctance to take it earned him a hard glare from Snape. "I need your expertise, please."

She proffered Draco's right arm to the sallow man. She had removed the gauze and the blonde – usually pale – seemed positively ashen as the dark, inky blood dripped from his skin onto the flagstone floor.

Snape's eyes widened and he pulled Draco up into a sitting position.

"Draco," he said urgently, drawing the pureblood's swiftly-deteriorating consciousness to him. "Who initiated you into the Circle?"

Professor McGonagall's brow furrowed.

"Wasn't it Lucius?" she asked.

Snape shook his head.

"I thought it was too, but Lucius would not mark his own son with this magic. Draco!" The blonde's eyes shifted with some difficulty to Snape. "Who initiated you into the Circle? Who tattooed this onto you? Was it Bellatrix?"

Draco slowly shook his head.

"S…Selena…" he gasped before his eyes drifted closed.

Snape let out a string of curse words that had the rest of them sending their eyebrows into their hairline. Snape was usually cool and reserved under pressure, but he looked almost helpless in the light of the information that he had yet to share with the rest of them.

"Albus," a voice said and once again their attention shifted to the portraits of Dumbledore and Phineas Nigellus.

"Bellatrix is unconscious," the portrait of Phineas said. "They don't know if she's going to wake up. Lucius found her under a pile of rubble in the old passageway under the manor. Narcissa is seeking revenge and Selena has promised that revenge would be wrought."

Snape cursed again, sending their attention once again back to him and Draco's unconscious form.

"What is it, Severus?" Dumbledore said mildly.

"Selena put a Disenemia Curse on Draco's mark," he snapped, murder in his eyes. "As if she _knew_ he would betray them…"

"What's the Disenemia Curse?" Harry asked.

"It's a binding curse," Remus said softly, his gaze on Draco. "It's a blood bond. If the bond of a society is broken through some act of betrayal, the curse eats at the one who did the betraying."

Hermione looked at Draco, eyes wide.

"They put it on him at his induction?" she asked. "He was only sixteen."

"Selena Selwyn's depravity knows no bounds," Snape growled, his onyx eyes burning. "And as long as Draco has that mark, the curse will continue to eat at him until there's nothing left."

"Then you must get rid of it," Dumbledore's portrait responded solemnly.

"But I thought there was no way to remove the Dark Mark," Hermione said.

"There is only one way to remove it," Snape replied.

Then realization dawned on Hermione.

"No!" she shrieked, rushing over and pushing Snape away from Draco. "I've pulled him from his family, his friends, and everything he's ever known and thrust him into a world where people would rather kill him than think well of him!" She cast a dark look at Harry and Ron, both of whom seemed acceptably sheepish. Turning back to Dumbledore, she glared at him. "I will _not_ let you maim him too!"

Dumbledore's portrait sighed.

"I'm afraid, Miss Granger, it's for the greater…"

"Don't!" she screamed, her face red as her eyes flashed. "Don't you _dare_ say it! This is _not_ for the greater good! This is for the vindictive and cruel…"

"He's dying, Miss Granger," Madame Pomfrey said softly. "Would you rather he die?"

"No, but…"

"Granger," a soft voice said, and she turned to see Draco struggling with consciousness once more. "Shut up and let them do what they need to do."

Nostrils flaring, Hermione turned away as Snape and Madame Pomfrey moved over to Draco again. Facing Dumbledore's portrait, she looked into his pale blue eyes with a fiery anger.

"Sometimes I wonder what the greater good is anymore," she spat.

Draco issues a low groan and, unable to face it or him, Hermione fled from the room, rushing down the spiral staircase and heaving dry sobs in the large, empty corridor. She gripped the window ledge, giving a pained, strangled cry before punching her hand through the glass. The window shattered, imbedding glass into her hand, and a few drops of rain dampened her face before the glass rebuilt itself, once again shielding Hermione from the wind and rain outside.

"Fuck," Hermione mumbled, hissing slightly as she plucked the bits of glass from her hand.

"Hermione?"

She turned around to see Remus walking down the stairs, his eyes filled with slight alarm at the sight of her bloodied hand.

"Don't fuss," she said as he hurried over.

"Did you…just punch a window?"

"Yes."

There was a moment of silence.

"Did the window have it coming?" he finally asked.

She gave a small chuckle.

"The window was the unfortunate victim of displaced anger. But I'll be fine."

He looked at her before taking her hand and gently removing the glass, healing the skin with his wand when he was through. Then he turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her wrist with tender affection.

"I really am glad you're alright," he said, his eyes focused on her hand. "I don't know what I would have done it something had happened to you."

She smiled.

"Well, you know me, Remus. I certainly didn't make things easy for them while I was there."

Remus smiled slightly.

"That's what Sirius was saying. He was trying to keep all our heads cool so we didn't do something stupid."

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"_Sirius_ kept you all calm? As in, Sirius _Black_?"

Remus chuckled.

"Yes, well…things change unexpectedly sometimes."

He couldn't look into her eyes and when she brought her palm to his face, she looked into the pain she had spent a week trying to ignore existed.

"Remus," she whispered. "I…I'm sorry…I just…"

"'Mione," he interrupted, taking her hand from his face. "I can't share you. It's not in my nature. And I know better than to go up against Sirius in a fight for a woman's heart."

"Oh, Remus, don't make it sound like I'm…or that he…it's just for this law!"

Remus said nothing, but took her hands in his and looked at them for a long moment. Then he locked his eyes with hers before leaning in slowly, brushing his lips over her cheek and nuzzling his nose into her curls. Her eyes fluttered closed as she enjoyed the intimacy, his lips brushing down the column of her neck.

"Sirius," she breathed without thinking, and Remus stopped. Realizing what she had said, Hermione pulled back in mortification. Remus, however, smiled.

"I'll miss you whispering _my_ name like that," he said, brushing a curl out of her face. "But I suppose I should have known it would end at some point. You _were_ always a bit too much for me."

Her eyebrows furrowed.

"Too much? What do you mean?"

His lip twitched upwards.

"I love you, and I mean this in the absolute best way possible, but _nothing_ is ever simple with you."

She smiled slightly as he leaned in to kiss her cheek once more before stepping back, hands still holding hers as he surveyed her. Unlike Harry or Oliver, he didn't mean it as a character flaw. He meant it as a characteristic he was just unable to handle. And as he dropped her hands and took another step back, she saw that he was slowly making peace with that fact.

"Moony, have you seen…'Mione," Sirius said, coming down the stairs and seeing his best friend gazing lovingly at his fiancée. Swallowing the bubble of jealousy that had developed in his throat, he plastered a smile onto his face. "There you are. You alright?"

"I'll be better when this war is over and that evil, destructive sadist is destroyed for good," she replied.

"Snivellus?" Sirius joked, earning him a smile from the witch. "Well, we can't solve that particular issue at the moment, so why don't you come back upstairs? They're all done and they've taken Draco to the Infirmary. Molly's just arrived, and McGonagall wants to talk to us about the wedding."

Hermione sighed.

"I have half a mind to just go to Brighton and elope."

"Not entirely out of the realm of possibility, kitten."

Remus chuckled.

"I'm going to find Kingsley and tell him what we found out in Knockturn Alley. I'll see you later."

"Bye," Hermione said quietly and he smiled at her before turning and walking down the hall.

"Are you going to be okay?" Sirius asked as they started up the stairs, nodding to where Remus had just disappeared.

She nodded.

"Yes. I can only handle one Marauder at a time and by a lucky chance, it turns out to be you for now."

He grinned cheekily.

"And what makes you think you can handle me?" he teased.

Stopping in front of the office door, Hermione turned to face him. Sirius felt his breath hitch at the smoldering gaze she was casting him. Taking a step forward, she hooked her fingers in his belt loops and stood on her tip-toes, her lips inches from his ear as he felt her breath on his neck.

"I know _exactly_ what buttons to press," she whispered, her breasts pressing against his chest. "Plus, you'll soon find there's _very_ little I say 'no' to."

She nipped his earlobe before standing back with a grin. With a wink, she floated back into the office, leaving Sirius with the sudden realization that she was the first woman to ever make him stop breathing.

* * *

**Thanks to _awtr101fan_ for inspiring one of my favorite scenes in this chapter - the password scene. Thank you for researching something plausible that McGonagall would use!**

**

* * *

**_Thanks for reading! Leave me love!_


	20. Chapter 20: A Disconcerting Turn

**A/N:** I know it's been a long time, but I have a legitimate excuse. For those of you who don't follow me on Twitter (either because you don't have one or refuse to feed my ego - either I respect thoroughly) you wouldn't know that my computer up and died on me and I'm using the family Mac to update, which presents problems on 2 levels: 1.) i don't have my notes and/or my master file and 2.) it's a Mac, and I'm a PC person. A dying breed, I know, but while I'm not adverse to change I like being a PC person. Take that, Mac Guy!

*ahem* That said, thanks for your patience. And much thanks to Amy, who's had to endure my whining about this chapter because I was having trouble making it just right. You're an awesome gal, Amy, and a fantastic beta. Thanks!

Also...this (finally) introduces important OC numero 3 - and thanks to **diamond-helen** for coming up with the name!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: A Disconcerting Turn**

Hermione had a headache.

Actually, if the truth be told, Hermione didn't just have a headache. She had a full-on, mind-warping, timpani-against-the-frontal-lobe, "oh-my-dear-Lord-I'll-never-drink-again" morning after, thought-destroying migraine the likes of which Hermione was sure would inspire books of epic poetry. Adding to that, she was fairly certain she was at risk of going absolutely insane and as the world spun madly around her, she briefly mused over the idea that she had already _gone_ insane, and her conscious mind was just catching up.

"Where do you want the tent, Mum?"

"Oh, just out back. Thank you, dear. Ginny?"

"Yeah, Mum?"

"Have you and Harry set out all the chairs?"

"Harry had to go to Diagon Alley with Sirius to get their hair trimmed. Tonks is helping me."

"Do you think that wise, dear?"

"Mum! Your stew is smoking."

"Oh, thank you, Fred."

"George."

"Sorry, George. Can you and your brother help Ginny with the chairs? I hardly trust Tonks not to…"

'_CRASH!'_

"Sorry, Molly!"

"…break something."

Hermione watched as the twins chortled, walking past a frazzled Mrs. Weasley as they helped Tonks out of the tangle of collapsible chairs she had tripped over. Outside, Hermione watched as Ginny weaved a beautiful set of fairy lights artfully along the edge of the property while Neville and Hannah walked hand-in-hand around the garden, coaxing the flower bushes to bloom fragrant petals of lilac, baby's breath, and honeysuckle.

Hermione winced as Tonks – having been recalled back into the kitchen – dropped a cauldron on the floor, the deep gong-like clang of which just added to the symphonic disaster playing in Hermione's head. Mrs. Weasley, unable to contain her frustration with the well-meaning yet hopelessly-clumsy witch, asked Tonks to find Luna in order to get the pink-headed woman out of the way.

This, however, left Mrs. Weasley alone with Hermione – who had been sitting in the breakfast nook with nothing to do for over an hour but not being allowed out of anyone's sight.

Thus, Hermione's headache and slow descent into madness.

"Ginny! Could you come inside a moment?"

"Yes, Mum?"

"I need you to take Draco's supper tray up to him."

"I have to finish the chairs, Mum."

"It'll only take a minute."

"Yeah, but…"

"I'll do it!" Hermione volunteered eagerly, scooting out of the nook and sweeping the tray off the counter. She was out the door before Mrs. Weasley could say anything.

Reveling in the newfound freedom and the blissful silence that lay outside the kitchen, Hermione paused for a moment, letting her head go back to the mindful sanity it had managed to retain for the past twenty-one years. Her steady breathing maintained, she felt the pain subside from her head and the brass section release their stranglehold of her inner ear. Taking another deep breath, she turned toward the curved stairwell, never more grateful of the size of the house if only to put a healthy distance between her and the constant fussing.

The week of chaos that had triggered Hermione's push to the brink of homicidal behavior had started in Professor McGonagall's office the day she and Draco had returned from Malfoy Manor. After the wave of predictable fussing from Mrs. Weasley's maternal eye, the headmistress had sat them down to discuss revising the wedding details. As expected, almost everything – including the location – had been compromised due to Alexandra's involvement. So, with only the wedding dress and the outfits of the wedding party as remnants of all previous plans, the four set about trying to plan a lavish wedding in a secret location in under a week.

When Sirius suggested the wedding be at their new house, Hermione wanted to kill him. Since it was logical, large, and safe, however, Hermione had no choice and by mid-week, half the Weasleys had all but moved in as outdoor furniture, garden paraphernalia, and mountains of food passed through the library floo, all the while Hermione lived under nearly 24 hour guard.

Additionally, Professor McGonagall insisted that Draco be sent to recover in the Bloomsbury house, as Dumbledore had ensured it was one of the safest dwellings outside of Hogwarts. Hermione wasn't entirely adverse to the idea – she didn't like spending the night in the large house alone and Mrs. Weasley would have insisted she stay at the Burrow if Draco wasn't there – but she didn't like the fact that her house could be offered so readily. Feeling particularly responsible for the state Draco was in, however, Hermione silently prepared the green bedroom for her guest, ignoring Sirius's smart-mouthed remarks about it officially being the 'Slytherin' room. And as Remus and Sirius cautiously lowered the pale, achy blond into the bed, Hermione had been rewarded with a wry but grateful smile for her effort.

"I never thought I'd say this, Malfoy, but right now I can't tell you how glad I am that you're incapacitated in my house," Hermione said as she carried the tray into the room. Draco, whose right arm was still heavily bandaged and in a sling, looked up from where he had been reading the _Evening Prophet_ Remus had brought for him.

"The Weasleys holding you hostage in your own home?" he asked with a slight grin. He had gotten better over the past few days at keeping the snobbish lilt from his voice when talking about the Weasleys, especially since Mrs. Weasley had gone out of her way to be friendly and maternal while Mr. Weasley had started to fill him in – from a cautious distance – as to the goings on inside the Order.

Hermione set the tray down in front of him.

"I suppose I should be grateful that they care enough to make the effort, but it can be quite infuriating sometimes."

She sat on the edge of the bed as he started to eat. Over the past few days they had taken to talking, especially in the evening when the Weasleys had gone home and the house sat in relative silence. Hermione found Draco to be surprisingly pleasant company when he wasn't being particularly snarky or in a mood. They seemed to get along as well as they could considering their history and Hermione was grateful for the company.

"So…you and Black tie the knot tomorrow, do you?" Draco asked as he slowly struggled with using his left hand to bring his stew to his mouth. Hermione had learned to reign in her own motherly instincts, as she found that offering to feed him only earned her a scathing glare from the proud pureblood.

"Yeah," she replied, looking at her hands. "Providing nothing goes wrong."

Draco scoffed.

"Not much likelihood of that happening, is there?"

She gave a small laugh.

"I'll just be glad when this circus is over, to be honest," she said, looking back up at him. "I can't wait to go back to living a fairly normal life." He arched an aristocratic eyebrow and she chuckled. "Alright. As normal as it could get for me."

He cracked a small smile and took a bite of his bread, chewing it over thoughtfully as he surveyed her. Hermione noticed that he had a habit of doing that every time he had something to say that he knew she wasn't going to like – which was often – or if he wasn't entirely sure how to word something. Hermione had learned to wait and hold her righteous indignation until she was certain she was supposed to be offended by his words.

"How are you sleeping?" he asked, his piercing silver eyes calm but inquisitive.

She frowned slightly.

"Fine. Just fine, thanks."

He took another tentative spoon of his stew.

"I've heard you," he said once he swallowed. "I've heard you a couple of times, actually. Late at night. I came in last night to make sure you were okay. You've been having nightmares?"

She shrugged.

"They're not that bad. Everyone gets them."

"Not the same one four nights in a row."

She gave him a dark look.

"I thought you said you just came into my room last night?"

He arched his eyebrow.

"I lied. Are you surprised?"

She chuckled slightly.

"I'm surprised you're worried."

He sighed.

"I suppose on one hand I'm just worried because I feel like I owe you a lot for sticking up for me when no one seemed convinced that I come in peace. But an overwhelming piece of it is that I'm a light sleeper and your constant tossing and turning and groaning keeps me up."

Hermione gave him a wry smile.

"You are selfless to a fault, Malfoy," she said sarcastically.

"'Miiiiiooooonnneeeee…!" Harry's voice shouted up the stairs and Draco rolled his eyes.

"What, is he too good to walk upstairs?" he asked as Hermione stood.

She gave him a pointed look.

"You two are going to have to play nice eventually," she warned.

"Don't hold your breath, Granger," came his reply as she walked out the door.

"'Miiiiiooooonnneeeee…"

"I'm right here, Harry," she said as she descended the stairs, seeing her best friend at the bottom. "And this isn't a Quidditch pitch. You needn't shout."

He shot her a nervous smile.

"Now…don't get mad…but it's Sirius," he said when she reached the last step.

Her eyes immediately narrowed.

"What did he do?"

"Well…you know how we were going to get our hair trimmed?"

"Yes…"

"Well…Sirius…see…he always wanted a Mohawk and…"

"I'm gonna kill him," Hermione seethed, pushing past Harry and stalking toward the kitchen. "Sirius Black, I swear to all that is holy I will hex your nuts off and all other appendages…"

"Surprise!"

Hermione was stopped mid-sentence as she barreled into the kitchen, skidding to a stop as she saw Sirius – hair still at its sexy, shaggy length – smiling broadly at her as he stood next to a pretty, petite brunette with sparkling jade-green eyes that shone with mischief and pride.

"I leave the country for a few years and you go and get engaged on me," she said brightly, her sweet soprano voice blending her English accent with a charming lilt of American.

"Emily!" Hermione squealed, launching herself into her cousin's open arms. The pair hugged and jumped and laughed with much squealing, amusing those around them and especially Sirius.

"I…when…what…_how_?" Hermione was able to stutter out as she pushed past her grinning fiancé to lead her cousin to the kitchen table. "When I wrote you about all this you said you wouldn't be able to make it."

"Well…about a week ago I received a letter that held five hundred pounds and a first-class plane ticket from your parents. I called them immediately to tell them that I couldn't possibly accept their gift and they told me that it wasn't from them, but from some bloke named Black who was apparently marrying my favorite little cousin," Emily joked.

Hermione spun around to look at Sirius.

"You arranged for this?" she asked softly, her eyes swimming with emotion.

He shrugged.

"From the way you spoke about her, I figured you would want her here, so…"

She stopped him by flinging herself into his arms and peppering his face with light kisses. He chuckled, holding her tightly and realizing just how young she was as he gazed into the pools of soft hazel.

"Was that a 'thank you'?" he joked.

"No," she said, cupping his face. "This is."

She kissed him softly, careful not to deepen it but allowing a tender affection to pass through them. Pulling away, she smiled at him before jumping from his arms and turning to her grinning best friend.

"A Mohawk, eh?" she asked, ruffling his already-untidy hair. "You didn't even go to Diagon Alley, did you?"

He shook his head.

"Nope. Heathrow."

Emily laughed.

"I have to tell you, 'Mione, I've never seen anyone so entranced by the underground as your fiancé. He was absolutely fascinated."

Hermione smiled.

"He was brought up around wizards. Muggle…or rather, non-magical…things seem to interest him. He has a flying motorbike."

"Oh sure. A flying motorbike. I had one, of course, but I couldn't get the wings to deploy unless I sprinkled it with fairy dust," Emily said in mock sincerity.

"Really?" Sirius asked, which had both girls giggling as Harry quickly informed his godfather of the reference.

"Molly, the tent's set up. What do you want Bill to do with the extra pins?"

Everyone turned to see Remus, bare-chested as he wrung out his wet t-shirt. Hermione immediately notice Emily's eyes travel in mild appreciation over his broad shoulders and lithe torso, and even Hermione had to admit that as the sun set behind the house and caught the golden highlights in Remus's sandy-brown hair, the man looked positively delicious.

"Remus, dear, it's the beginning of November. A bit cold for going about topless, don't you think?" Mrs. Weasley said, a slight note of disapproval in her tone as she doubtlessly saw the looks the women were giving him.

"Sorry, Molly. Neville was watering the plants and I was the unfortunate victim when he tripped and lost control of his wand," the werewolf said apologetically.

Hermione chuckled as she thought of Neville – accomplished wizard though he may have turned out to be – stuttering and blushing as he doused his former professor with water.

"C'mon, Em. I'll show you to your room," she directed to her cousin, picking up Emily's bags, and leading her out of the once-again buzzing kitchen through the house.

"Wow, coz," Emily said as she paused to look around. "You're doing well for yourself, aren't you?"

"It was an inheritance," Hermione replied, smiling slightly. "But it _is_ beautiful, isn't it?"

"Not ask beautiful as that man of yours. Your mum did _not_ do him justice."

Hermione couldn't help but grin.

"He _is_ sinfully-gorgeous. But it's a bit more complicated than that."

She led Emily into the gray bedroom, putting the bags on the floor before going and opening the curtains onto the darkening street below. Emily sighed as she looked at the quiet neighborhood, admiring treetops of the nearby Coram's Fields.

"So," she said, turning back to Hermione before flopping on the bed. "This law seems to have you in a bit of a bind, doesn't it?"

"A bit of one, yes," Hermione replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. "But it's nice to have people around me who support me. And Sirius has been really good about everything."

"I don't suppose it was easy tearing yourself from Remus. That man is _incredibly_ attractive."

Hermione grinned.

"Yes he is. Intelligent, too. Kind, humble, generous, and an absolutely _phenomenal_ lover."

Emily chuckled.

"So what's the catch? Why not marry him?"

"He's a werewolf. Muggleborns are only legally allowed to marry purebloods."

"Yeah, but…I'm sure there's some loophole or something."

Hermione shook her head.

"Not really. And even if there was, I couldn't marry Remus. He's too…nice."

Emily arched an eyebrow.

"He's devastatingly good-looking, kind, generous, humble, an amazing lover, and your minor bad point is that he's too _nice_? Could it possibly be that our standards are just a bit high, 'Mione?"

"It's not that he's too nice, it's just that…well…"

Hermione didn't know how to describe it without saying the three words her brain had been screaming at her over the past few days. Try as she might, however, they were the only words she could think of to say and Emily was the only person she truly felt comfortable saying them to.

"The truth is," she said, looking into her cousin's eyes and pleading secrecy. "He's not Sirius."

***

Supper was, as usual, a loud and boisterous affair as all available Weasleys, Luna, Harry, Tonks, Neville, Hannah, Sirius, Remus, Hermione, and Emily congregated around the long dining room table that almost groaned under the weight of good food and occupants. Mrs. Weasley seemed infinitely more relaxed than she had been earlier and from the sly glances Ginny kept casting the twins, Hermione wasn't entirely convinced that the three hadn't conspired to slip their mother shots of firewhiskey in her lemonade.

"So," Fred finally said, standing and clinking his glass of mead as an eager Ron swallowed the last of the stew. "It would seem that tomorrow is going to be a sad day indeed for witches and wizards alike, as the dashing Mr. Black and the _gorgeous_ Miss Granger are officially, magically, and legally taken off the market to try and tolerate one another in a state of holy matrimony."

"To commemorate this momentous occasion," George continued, standing next to his twin. "We would like to unveil our newest product designed specifically for our WonderWitch line for those souls fortunate – "

" – or unfortunate," Fred chimed in.

" – enough to find themselves tied irreversibly to the wizard or witch of their…erm…dreams."

Hermione scoffed and Sirius chuckled.

"We present…the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes' product…Image-o-Child!" Fred announced, revealing what looked to be a large spyglass that floated above George's hand.

"Image-o-Child?" Harry said incredulously, arching his eyebrow at the spyglass. "That's the best name you could come up with? What does it even do?"

"It's a working title," George said stoutly. "And if you shut your cakehole, you'll see what it does!"

Fred rapped the product firmly with his wand and said, "Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley."

The spyglass zoomed over to the pair, Harry still incredulous and Ginny thoroughly suspicious as both of them had been on the receiving end of the twins' less-successful experiments. The spyglass did nothing sinister, however, except slowly circle Harry's head, taking in every angle before doing the same to Ginny. When it seemed thoroughly satisfied, it backed away and floated above the now-intrigued table, humming and glowing a merry yellow before the glass turned opaque and an image started to appear.

The fuzzy blur that had started to form slowly materialized into the picture of a child. He looked about four, and the table gave a collected croon as the boy with untidy black hair, freckles, and warm brown eyes played with a floating golden snitch while sitting upon the knee of what looked to be a slightly older Harry Potter.

"Oh my God," Sirius whispered. "Moony, am I crazy or is that James?"

"It's James," Remus agreed, smiling gently as Harry gaped in mild awe at his son.

"This spy glass shows your child or children at any age. Just tap it with your wand and say the age you want. The spyglass can also detect whether or not you'll have children of opposite sexes. If you're curious, Ginny, just tap the glass and say 'girl'," George urged his sister.

Ginny glanced at Harry, who was still spellbound by the image in front of him, before swallowing and tapping the glass with her wand, saying "girl" in a shaky voice. The picture faded and after a few more seconds of gentle humming, an image of a slightly older Ginny holding a toddler came into view. The toddler had a head of rich auburn hair and bright green eyes, and she was surveying her smiling mother with a look of calm interest.

Hermione was unnerved by the look, and her breath caught in her throat as she realized why when the child looked directly at her.

"She looks like Lily," Remus said with a smile.

Hermione felt like she was going to be sick. Excusing herself quickly, she ignored the curious looks she received and rushed out, deciding she needed air. Foregoing her cloak, she left the warmth of the house for the onslaught of the cold night, breathing deep gulps of air to try and settle her churning stomach and racing heart.

The look that child held on her face was a look that had haunted Hermione's dreams for the past week. It was the look of cold indifference to a cynical eye, and the look of promised death to an intelligent one. The green eyes were steely – almost dead – and belonged to a woman who no longer held the softness of childish youth. They were the eyes that regarded her with cunning calculation and behind them sat a world of evil and pain that Hermione could not fathom.

Selena Selwyn and the child in the glass had one thing in common: they both looked like Lily Evans-Potter.

If Lord Voldemort's reign would come to an end with Harry Potter, than the reign of Selena Selwyn would begin shortly after and Hermione was not entirely convinced that it was mere coincidence that Harry's daughter would resemble the woman who posed a potential threat to a peaceful existence. But what did it all mean?

"'Mione!" a voice said and she turned to see Sirius coming towards her, her abandoned cloak in hand as he pulled his own around his shoulders.

"Hi," she said softly, allowing him to approach her. She gave him a smile as he draped her cloak over her shivering frame.

"Molly nearly had a heart attack when you ran out. I left her gasping and sputtering as Arthur tried to convince her we didn't need fifty trained Aurors to follow you."

Hermione smiled slightly.

"Sorry about rushing out. I just…with the wedding tomorrow…it's difficult to come to terms with…well…some of the terms of the marriage," she said, lying about her immediate panic but still able to voice an issue that had been plaguing her steadily for several days.

Sirius looked at her for a long moment and Hermione was once-again startled by the impression that he knew there was more to it than just what she was telling him. If he did, however, he didn't say anything as he offered her his arm and they walked casually together down the quiet street.

"Quite ingenious, those twins, don't you think? Glad you talked me into investing with them. They've made me very rich indeed," he said.

Hermione chuckled.

"Not that you needed much convincing. And you were already fairly well-off to begin with."

He brushed the comment aside.

"That was my family's money. I didn't want much to do with it. But I was able to take it and turn it into something good. And that's all thanks to you being a clever little swot."

Hermione smiled again, trying not to seem too pleased with herself at his compliment.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the sights and sounds of the neighborhood. Hermione knew she would love living in Bloomsbury – it was impossible not to fall in love with the historically-rich streets and quaint shops – but she also couldn't help thinking that she would enjoy being there with Sirius, and that walking beside him for an undefined period of time didn't frighten her as much as it would have a month earlier.

Which, of course, was the most frightening thing of all.

"So," Sirius said as their feet guided them into the dusky darkness of Coram's Fields. "What _really_ made you rush outside on this lovely November eve?"

Hermione tensed, stopping under the low light of a lamp. She was continuously frustrated by the fact that he knew things about her that most couldn't possibly discover. She had spent years building those walls to protect herself and in one month, Sirius had demolished most of them. He saw through her in a way that both scared and thrilled her at the same time.

"I…it's just…" Her brow furrowed but she realized she didn't know enough to make an informed statement to him so she just sighed. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it. My brain runs itself into a frenzy sometimes."

"Hermione," Sirius asked, grabbing her hand as she started to walk again. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the nightmares you've been having, would it?"

She spun around to face him.

"How on earth did you…"

"I forced it out of Draco."

"You _forced_ it out of Draco?"

"Yes. Honestly, I had him at wand point."

Hermione chuckled slightly, shaking her head.

"It's nothing."

"That's the second time you've said 'it's nothing,' and I may leave one of them alone but not this one," he said sternly.

She sighed.

"I just…I don't like sleeping alone. I never have, not since…anyway, when I was in school I had roommates so it was fine and after…well…you know I was never short of company. But these past few days have been…difficult, and there's been so much going on that everything I'm distracted from during the day seems to manifest itself in my dreams at night."

Sirius chuckled slightly.

"In the past month, you've been forced into a marriage, come face-to-face with your own personal bogeyman, had a huge row with one of your best friends, broken up with a lover, and been kidnapped by a group of fanatical Death Eaters. Personally, I'm amazed we haven't had to put you into St. Mungo's for psychological observation."

She shot him a wry smile.

"The night is still young."

He looked at her before sighing.

"Something's upsetting you, 'Mione, and I know it's going to be difficult but you and I are going to have to start trusting each other enough to share some things. I'm on your side."

She smiled, grasping his hand.

"I know you're on my side, Sirius. And after tomorrow I'll be just fine. I'm not good with weddings. They're institutional and arcane and…well…I'm not the biggest fan of what this means for me." She sighed. "Anyway, after the wedding I'll be fine. I have no difficulties with sex."

He chuckled as he gazed at her.

"No," he said. "No, I don't suppose you do."

She smiled before turning back toward the road.

"We should go back before Tonks volunteers to do dishes and we have to go china shopping."

Sirius chuckled before glancing at her, a wicked mischief in his eyes.

"Speaking of Tonks," he said, a grin starting to spread across his handsome face. "I've been trying to find an opportune time to inform you that I would have _never_ thought you to be the type of girl who swings both ways, 'Mione."

Hermione stopped and blinked up at him.

"I beg your pardon?"

He chuckled.

"I know I'm a bit late to the ball, but c'mon. You didn't think Moony was the _only_ male in the house who knew you were sleeping with my cousin for a few months, did you?"

"I…er…well…I wasn't entirely sure Remus knew."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"'Course he knew. The woman he's in love with sleeping with another woman? Please. His senses picked that up within a week and he needed to share it with someone." He shot Hermione a smirk. "Not that I'm complaining. The image was not unwelcome."

"You realize that's your cousin, right?"

He grinned.

"I'm a Black, my dear. It's not out of the realm of possibility."

She sighed.

"Does anyone else know?" she asked, ignoring his grin as she thought with a wince of the reaction Harry might have to another secret she had kept from him.

"No," Sirius admitted. "And it'll stay that way. But it'll cost you."

She narrowed her eyes.

"What?"

He smiled and pointed to his cheek.

"Small kiss."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione stood on tiptoes and allowed her lips to graze the high, angled cheekbones that she was finding more and more difficult to erase from her conscience. As she lowered back onto her heels, she shook her head with a smile as he smirked with personal triumph.

"You are a lecherous old man," she stated as they started walking again.

"Not so old, love," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. "But I'll admit to the other part."

He grinned down at her and with another shake of her head, she allowed him to steer them back to the house.

* * *

**_Thanks for reading! Leave me love!_**


	21. Chapter 21: A Wedding at Last

**A/N:** Well, I was able to update within two weeks, which should make some of you pretty happy. Thanks to everyone who's been super-supportive over the past few weeks with the computer issue and all. It looks like it's going to be in the shop for another week or so, but hopefully I'll get it back and I'll be able to write really quickly and - more importantly - in my own room!

Amy, as always, you are an inspiration and an absolute dream. I honestly don't know where I'd be without you. Lost in pompous prose, probably. :-)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: A Wedding at Last**

* * *

"I think I'm going to be sick," Hermione said as she stared blankly at her reflection in the full-length mirror. She could have sworn she was turning a most unbecoming shade of green.

"It's just nerves," Ginny assured her soothingly. "You'll be just fine."

"Oh, I don't know why we decided on this dress. I look like an overgrown meringue with purple splotches."

"Stop being silly. You look lovely," Tonks argued, her hair the exact shade of lavender as her dress.

"I really think I'm going to be sick. Maybe we should postpone."

"Oh, _honestly_, you great drama queen, it's a wedding, not a funeral, and the marriage isn't even real. So shut up because you look gorgeous and if you _do_ get sick, it's not like it's going to change anything."

Hermione shot her cousin a glare but Emily brushed it off as she avoided Hermione's eye by smoothing the non-existent creases out of the dress that Luna had happily-relinquished just hours beforehand.

"You can be replaced, you know," Hermione half-teased, taking a deep breath and looking back at her reflection.

Emily grinned at her through the mirror.

"You wouldn't replace me. I know too much. I'm a liability if you take away the bridesmaid dress."

Hermione smiled slightly in spite of herself as she willed a less-judgmental eye to assess her appearance. She had to admit that she felt beautiful in the dress. The silk kissed her skin and the cut contoured her body perfectly. The ivory colour and lavender accents set off the milky paleness of her skin and drew out the soft peach-pink tone to radiate in the sunlight that now filtered through the window. Ginny had helped her with her make-up while Emily – having spent most of her childhood acquainted with the rebellious nature of Hermione's curls – had styled the wild waves into a stunning up-do, complete with gentle tendrils that framed Hermione's face.

In short, the woman who had spent twenty-one years avoiding commitment suddenly looked every inch the beautiful blushing bride.

"You really do look stunning, 'Mione," Emily said as Hermione turned to face her three bridesmaids.

"Thank you," Hermione replied, a sincere smile on her face. "For everything. This day couldn't have happened without you."

"Now now, don't give us all the credit," Ginny said with a wicked grin. "After all, we must thank the Ministry for its small part in today's upcoming events."

"Speaking of which," Tonks said. "Charlie's with the Ministry liaison as well as a photographer from the _Daily Prophet_, and he told me to tell you that he'll make sure they stay in line."

Hermione chuckled at the image of the physically imposing redhead as he kept watch over what she was sure to be a couple of pasty administrative types. The image seemed to make the day a little less daunting.

"'Mione," Emily said, smiling softly. "Aunt Helen wanted a moment alone, so we're going to wait in the foyer, alright?"

Hermione took a deep breath.

"Yeah, alright."

Emily gave her a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek before walking out. Ginny, her eyes already starting to water, threw her arms around Hermione's neck and hugged her tightly, which would have been endearing had the bride-to-be been allowed to breathe.

"Ginny…" Hermione managed to gasp, wrenching herself from Ginny's iron grip.

"I'm sorry," Ginny said tearfully. "I'm glad I put that charm on my make-up."

Hermione chuckled.

"As Emily said, it's my wedding, not my funeral. Can we please remember that?"

"She knows," Tonks said, pushing the blubbering redhead toward the door. Giving Hermione the secret smile that they used to share while dating, Tonks leaned in and brushed her lips gently over Hermione's in a ghost of a kiss. "You're gorgeous, babe."

With a wink, she turned and nudged Ginny out of the room as Hermione waited for her mother, both relieved and terrified that the day had come at last.

"Sweetheart?" Helen said, and Hermione looked up to see her mother standing in the doorway, her pale green mother-of-the-bride suit bringing out the jade in her eyes.

Those eyes were now filling with tears as she walked across the room to hug her only child tightly to her, the strength of her embrace conveying her reluctance to release the young woman. Hermione wished her own eyes could shimmer with bravely concealed tears, but despite the clamour of emotions within her, Hermione's eyes remained stubbornly dry.

"You look beautiful, darling," Helen said when she finally pulled back to survey her daughter. "Like a fairy tale princess."

"Thanks, Mum," Hermione replied.

"I…er…I know some mothers would use this time to tell you all the mystical wonders you'll discover on your wedding night, but…well…I think that ship sailed awhile back. I'm not naïve enough to think…" Helen paused, trying to figure out how to say her thoughts tactfully, but after a few seconds she sighed with a smile. "Well…I hardly think you need that lecture anymore."

Hermione blushed.

"It's not necessarily something that will be very present in Sirius and my marriage, Mum," she mumbled.

"Darling, I know this isn't the most ideal circumstance for a marriage, but you should learn to treat it like one. After all, if the law isn't revoked a year from now, you and Sirius will have to have a child together."

Hermione frowned.

"How did you know…"

"Arthur showed your father and I the law and all its amendments."

Hermione blanched.

"So Dad knows that…that Sirius and I have to…"

"Consummate the marriage?" Helen finished, slightly amused by her daughter's stricken look. "Believe it or not, sweetheart, your father expected a sexual relationship between you and Sirius long before he knew of the law's stipulations."

"_What?!_" Hermione cried, horror-struck.

Helen chuckled.

"The electricity between the two of you is palpable, my dear."

Hermione said nothing, feeling the odd ache return to her stomach.

"You need to cherish Sirius, Hermione," Helen continued, taking her daughter's hands. "You could do much worse than him in this situation and I know he cares about you…perhaps even more than he admits. I'm honoured to have him as a son-in-law and possible father of my grandchildren, and not because he's smart and kind and handsome, but because of how _you_ are when you're with him. He makes you happy, darling…perhaps even more than you admit."

"Mum, it's all an act. Really."

Helen smiled.

"No actor in the world could feign the way you two look at each other."

Hermione frowned as she processed these words and her mother leaned in to kiss her gently on the furrowed crease of her forehead.

"Now," Helen said, walking over to a bag in the corner. "Ginny said you had something new, something borrowed, and something blue, yes?"

"Er…yes," Hermione said, shaking herself out of her confused haze. "Emily gave me a necklace this morning as a wedding present, Ginny lent me a lace handkerchief, and Tonks made me wear blue underwear."

Helen chuckled.

"Well, I have your 'something old'," she said, and pulled a large wooden box from the bag. Opening it towards Hermione, the bride gasped and looked in wide-eyed shock at her smiling mother.

Nestled in a bed of white satin lay a beautiful silver tiara that was encrusted with brilliant diamonds. Folded next to it was a veil of fine lace, so delicate that Hermione was afraid to touch it.

"I know you said you didn't want a veil, but it came with the tiara," Helen said, setting the box on the dressing table and turning Hermione towards the mirror. "This was your great-great-grandmother's wedding tiara. She was the last Duchess of Warrington. I know, I know, I'm not overly fond of the title, but there you go."

She lifted the tiara out of the box and fixed it securely to Hermione's hair. Hermione didn't dare breathe for fear that it would fall and shatter into a million pieces.

"I had to get this from Hermia while still telling her that she couldn't come to the wedding. That was a bit of an issue, I must say."

"What did you tell her?" Hermione asked, watching as Helen lifted the lace out of the box.

"I told her," she said while carefully draping the lace over Hermione's face and head. "That Sirius was unsure he wanted a big wedding and that you suggested an elopement. So your father and I are going to pretend we're in Biarritz with you this weekend."

Hermione chuckled at the thought of her aunt's envy that she was eloping in the French Riviera, but went very quiet when her mother stepped back and she saw the full effect of the tiara, veil, and dress all together.

"I think you're ready," Helen said as Hermione stared at her own reflection, hardly able to comprehend that the woman staring back at her was, indeed, herself and not some trick of the eye.

"Yes," Hermione finally said. "Yes, I think I am."

~*~

"Sirius, will you calm down," Harry hissed as he stood next to his anxiety-ridden godfather.

"I'm gonna kill him," Sirius was mumbling murderously as he bounced on the soles of his feet. "I'm absolutely going to kill him."

"_I'm_ going to kill Hermione for making me wear bloody purple," Ron grunted, smoothing out his lavender waistcoat with a grimace.

"Luna said she thinks you look regal in purple," Harry said, shooting a friendly smile to Luna, who was sitting in the second row next to Mrs. Weasley. She was looking as ethereal as always but Harry had to smile as the orange radish earrings and butterbeer cork necklace clashed fantastically with the bright pink dress and oversized yellow hat she wore.

"Yeah, well," Ron said as he glanced at his fiancée. "She also believes in creatures like Nargles and thinks a bite from a garden gnome is good luck. I mean…I love her to death, Harry, but there are just some things you don't trust her opinion on."

Harry chuckled before turning his attention back to the increasingly agitated Marauder.

"I don't know how he could do this to me," Sirius muttered, uncaring if anyone was listening or not. "He's supposed to be my best mate and he just _disappears_…"

"Sirius," Harry said calmly. "He had to go to the loo. He'll be right back."

"But _now_? I mean…the service isn't going to be too long. He couldn't have _waited_?"

"He has twenty minutes before the service starts! He has time."

"Yeah, but…well…these outfits are tricky…lots of buttons…"

"Sirius," Harry said firmly. "I'm sure Lupin is quite capable of identifying the amount of time he'll need to accomplish what he needs to accomplish."

"Alright. But he better have washed his hands!"

Harry and Ron exchanged a look.

A few moments later, Remus appeared and walked up to rejoin them.

"_There_ you are!" Sirius said, casting his best friend a glare. "What took you so long?!"

Remus arched an eyebrow.

"Do you want a detailed account, or can I just say there was a line and you'll take me at my word?"

"A line? There are six other bathrooms in the house! You couldn't have used one of them?"

"I was unaware you were timing me."

"He was concerned about your buttons," Ron said.

"My what?"

"Okay, this conversation is bordering on the idiotic," Harry said.

Ron scoffed.

"_Bordering_?"

Sirius glared at him.

"Remind me again why you're here?"

Ron grinned.

"Moral support, mate."

"I'll show you moral…"

"Sirius," Remus said, grabbing his friend's shoulders. "Get a grip, because you've gone 'round the bend."

Sirius took a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. His stomach, however, refused to cooperate as a swarm of hyperactive butterflies settled in, wreaking havoc on his nerves. The butterflies – or rather, the rush of nerves – had been threatening their presence for the past week or so, even visiting him for a good fifteen minutes the night before when Hermione's lips had grazed his cheek. But the malicious Monarchs had appeared when he awoke that morning and would not release him from their fluttering grasp.

"Mr. Black?" a voice said and Sirius turned to see Professor McGonagall walking down the aisle with a familiar, friendly face Sirius was not expecting.

"Mr. Andrews! Lovely to see you," Sirius said to the smiling man as he approached him, taking his hand with a hearty shake. "I didn't know you were coming. Not that I mind, of course, but…"

"Albus asked Henry to officiate the ceremony today, Sirius," Professor McGonagall explained. "We couldn't get a Ministry officiate that we trusted on such short notice."

"Will it be legal?" Sirius asked worriedly.

Henry chuckled.

"Don't worry, son. There are still good people working at the Ministry. I'm all cleared to perform the ceremony and the Ministry liaison they've sent today, Mr. Crisp, knows all about it. Everything's in order."

Sirius breathed a little easier.

"Mr. Andrews," he said. "May I present my lieutenants for the day? Remus Lupin, Ronald Weasley, and my godson, Harry Potter."

"Of course," Henry said, his eyes twinkling merrily as he shook each of their hands. "An honour, gentlemen. Henry Andrews, at your service."

"So…er…Mr. Andrews. How is it that we've never met before?" Harry asked, slightly suspicious of this new face he had never seen and new name he had never heard before aside from Hermione's passing description.

"Harry," Sirius said in mild reproach but Henry smiled.

"A fair question, Mr. Potter, and one that is right to ask in these days of trouble. We have never met because I am not officially part of the Order. My wife's a Squib, you see, and I don't feel comfortable putting myself in a position of risk when she cannot defend herself."

"And yet you knew Dumbledore?" Ron asked.

"Yes. I was Albus's solicitor for years. I also have the great fortune of being his and Aberforth's cousin."

Sirius looked at him in surprise.

"Really?"

Henry chuckled.

"Yes. Of course, I don't possess even _half_ of Albus's brains, but I'm no fool either."

"No," Remus said with a slight smile. "I don't suppose you are."

Henry winked.

"Albus spoke very highly of you all," he said, slightly wistful. "I'm sure he would have loved to be here today."

"I'm not entirely sure he isn't," Sirius murmured, his nerves starting to return.

Henry chuckled.

"Very true, Mr. Black. He always did seem to be everywhere."

The light nostalgia that seemed to hang in the air was suddenly dispersed by the sound of music. Sirius swallowed hard, trying to shake off the anxiety – to pretend that it was just the butterflies of stage fright he sometimes got when he had to slip into the title role of easy lover – but each passing moment was making it harder. He could feel his control over his emotions for the woman he was about to marry become more and more complicated with every note of the bridal march.

And then, there she was.

Sirius didn't know whether he actually stopped breathing or if he just thought he did, but somewhere between her appearing and the seconds that followed, he forgot to breathe. She was – for lack of a better term – absolutely breath-taking.

She was walking toward him with the sun shining lightly behind her, making her glow. The dress looked like it was an extension of her body. Sunlight glinted off the tiara, haloing her head. But her eyes – those big hazel pools that he was starting to feel like he could drown in – were fixed on him and suddenly all the anxiety was gone. It was just the two of them and no one else.

The service seemed to fly by as he held her hands in his, not taking his eyes off her for one second. He could see a faint blush developing under his gaze but he didn't care. Sham marriage though this was, he knew that his feelings for her were beyond those of a caring friend. He wasn't in love with her – he was still certain he was incapable of actually falling in love with anyone, damaged as he was – but he also knew that he could slip too easily into the role of doting fiancé.

The role he played now was passionate lover. That should keep her entertained.

Hermione watched, fascinated, at the change that came over Sirius's face as he watched her. One half of her brain still carried her mother's words – and their meaning – and scared her to death but the other half was trying very hard not to swoon. His gaze was penetrating and his eyes were dark with a sexual heat that she didn't know what to make of. He had gone from doting to scorching in mere seconds and her head was spinning slightly at the drastic change.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Sirius's hands were gently lifting her veil before she had time to process that she was now officially _married_. As her vision cleared, she saw him grin cheekily at her before lowering his lips to hers in a soft, chaste kiss – barely enough to cause a stir. The brief contact, however, sent a thrill down her spine and memories of just how good his body had felt pressed against hers when they had first seen the house filtered through her brain. Considering all that had happened, it seemed so long ago, but it had only been a fortnight.

Two weeks, and she was already feeling things she had thought buried for the rest of her life.

Damn him.

Reality brought her back to the fact that everyone in the crowd was on their feet cheering, and Sirius was smiling that sexy half-grin at her that was starting to make her knees slightly weak. She smiled back, slipping into her role with a grace that was becoming almost _too_ comfortable, as they walked down the aisle as man and wife.

"You alright, kitten?" Sirius asked as they moved through the crowd.

"Yeah. It's just weird. We're finally married," she replied, not trusting herself to look at him.

"I know. Who would have thought that _we_ would end up married. To each _other_, no less!" he teased and she breathed a sigh of relief as they fell back into the easy comfort they had had before.

Mrs. Weasley had already set up a lavish buffet in the kitchen and having inhaled the scent of food all morning with no appetite, Hermione found herself starving. Chuckling at her enthusiasm, Sirius handed her a plate and gallantly allowed her room to go through the trays of food before the rush set in. Hermione hadn't understood the need for everything to happen so quickly, but both Mrs. Weasley and Professor McGonagall had told Hermione that she and Sirius would have to leave for their honeymoon within a few hours of the wedding if they were to get there in time to make the deadline on the consummation clause, and Hermione wasn't about to tempt fate with that particular issue.

Though Hermione was fairly certain that they could have just as easily fulfilled the requirements in their own bed, – or any other location, for that matter – everyone seemed absolutely insistent that everything appear as though all pains had been taken to ensure a long and romantic honeymoon, so she went along with it.

It didn't help that Hermione was still in the dark about the location, though.

"So," Hermione said, trying to swallow a mouthful of snap peas as Sirius sat next to her at the bridal table that Bill and Charlie had conjured up in the three minutes it had taken for everyone to vacate their seats and head towards the food. "Are you going to tell me where you're taking me this evening?"

He smirked.

"Why ruin a beautiful surprise?"

She rolled her eyes.

"You know Ginny's going to drink too much and let it spill, right?"

"Excuse me," Ginny said at her elbow, sitting next to her friend with an indignant glare. "I don't happen to _know_ where he's whisking you off to, but knowing Sirius it's somewhere fabulous, so shut up and enjoy your reception."

"Here here!" Emily toasted, lifting her glass of champagne that she had seized from the liquor table the moment the ceremony was over.

"Some friends you are," Hermione grumbled, but after another bite of her food she found herself less annoyed by the situation, choosing instead to be amused as Bill, Charlie, Fred and George ducked around the moving guests as they tried to set up the tables, chairs, and a dance floor at the same time.

"Bloody hell," Ron said as a chair went whizzing over his head, his hair tousled by the residual breeze. "Good thing we're at the wedding party table, eh? Someone could get killed with those four trying to organize the place."

"So _now_ you're happy with being in the wedding party," Harry teased, ducking good-naturedly as another chair flew overhead. "Just a few minutes ago you were all complaints."

"Really?" Hermione asked mildly, the mischievous glint back in her eye now that she had eaten something.

"Well," Ron said, turning slightly pink and pretending to be engrossed with his Beef Wellington. "You know…pre-wedding jitters."

"No, Ron, that's _my_ excuse," Sirius said with a laugh. "I believe you were muttering murderous thoughts about my wife. Something about disliking the colour of your waistcoat."

"Yeah, well, it's _purple_, in'it?" Ron said, trying to save face as Harry, Remus, and Sirius started chuckling. "What self-respecting bloke wears…purple…" He trailed off as he saw the Ministry liaison turn to him with a glare, pompously fluffing his purple dress robes as he spoke with Professor McGonagall.

Once Mr. Weasley had come out to manage the disorganized palaver his elder sons had created, the wedding guests spread out to the various tables, passing by the wedding party's table with words of congratulation and encouragement and soon, Fred and George were standing in the centre of the dance floor, ready to start their duties as co-emcees.

"Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards, please welcome the bride and groom in their first dance as man and shackles…I mean…wife," Fred said, grinning angelically as Hermione sent a mock glare to him.

"You know what, kitten," Sirius said softly as he drew her to him, moving them around the dance floor to the music. "I think you make about the prettiest fake bride I've ever seen."

Hermione laughed.

"I would tell you that you're very handsome but I suspect you've been telling yourself that since you put on the suit," she teased, tilting her head up to look him in the eye.

He smirked.

"I never turn down a compliment, kitten."

She rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to tell you what you want to hear, Sirius. That's not how this marriage is going to work."

"Oh really?" he said with a grin, dipping her and receiving applause for his grace. "Married for five minutes and you're already dictating terms. Awfully brave of you, Mrs. Black."

"_Granger_-Black, if you please."

He smirked again.

"Well," he said, his eyes flashing with dark desire once more. "Feel free to boss me around any time you want, my dear."

Hermione felt her breath leave her as he swung her around, twirling her dangerously and cocking his eyebrow.

"What on earth has gotten into you?" she whispered.

He gave her a wink.

"Just eager anticipation, kitten."

She chuckled.

"It's just sex, Sirius."

"But it's sex with _you_, kitten. I admit I've been curious."

She gave a sly smile.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't too."

"Well then," he breathed as the music ended. "It looks to be a big night then, doesn't it? Hopefully more than just our curiosities will be satisfied."

~*~

It was almost time to leave, and Hermione suddenly felt a lead weight in her stomach.

Well, it wasn't exactly sudden. While most new brides spent their reception gazing lovingly at their wedding ring and marvelling at their decision to marry the man who had slipped it on them, Hermione found herself gazing at her wedding ring for another reason entirely. After her dance with Sirius, Hermione had taken one look at the silver ring on the fourth finger of her left hand and everything suddenly became horrifyingly real. For her, the ring marked the end of an era; the end of her single status; the end of her independence.

And she suddenly found she _hated_ that ring.

The interesting thing was, she only hated it when Sirius wasn't around. When he was there with her, she found herself forgetting everything in the delicious wickedness he seemed to exude. Their exchanges – though brief – were brazen and bordered on definitively inappropriate for the gathering. Sirius was suddenly the Casanova she had heard about, and she was allowed to play the sultry temptress she was known to be. In an odd way, he comforted her with his casual discussion of their planned consummation. It was footing she was familiar with.

While he was performing the expected groom duties of dancing with the bridal party and the matriarchs attending, however, Hermione found herself concentrating on what would happen _after_ they slept together. She was bound to Sirius. No matter what he said about allowing her the freedom she craved, she was still bound to him.

The law had made sure of that.

Now, sitting on her bed, she was starting to feel very tired. Tired of the charade she had been playing for the past month, and tired of the change that would require her to shift her character now that the wedding was over and the 'marriage' had begun. 'Wife' and 'future mother' were not roles Hermione had ever thought herself groomed for.

"'Mione!" Ginny called through the house and Hermione sighed. Sitting on her bed half-dressed and feeling sorry for herself was not how she wanted to be found by her best girl friend, especially when she had to leave for Merlin-knew-where in a few minutes.

"Hermione, what's wrong with you?" Ginny asked, coming into the bedroom with a glass of champagne just as Hermione was standing up. "You guys have to leave in a few minutes!"

"I know. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

Hermione shrugged.

"I just…I realized it, you know? I'm _married_."

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Yeah but…well…not _really_, you know?"

"No," Hermione said distractedly. "No, I suppose not."

Ginny sighed, walking over to her friend and taking her head in her hands.

"Go and enjoy your honeymoon. Forget the marriage. You're going to have sex with Sirius Black tonight! Think what a notch on your bedpost _he'll_ be!" she exclaimed, which caused Hermione to chuckle.

"I just wish I knew where we were going," she said.

"Wherever he's taking you, it's bound to be a place you'll enjoy, because he wouldn't have decided on that location if he didn't think you'd enjoy it. Now get dressed. He's waiting for you."

Sighing, Hermione let Ginny help her out of the wedding dress and into the sleek black trousers and lavender peasant top they had picked for the trip. Shrinking her suitcase down to a manageable size, Hermione walked down the stairs to the foyer where most of the guests had congregated to wish the happy couple good-bye.

Sirius was in deep discussion with a tall, fierce-looking man when Hermione approached him.

"Everything looks in order, Mr. Black. I just have a few routine questions before you leave."

"Of course, Mr. Crisp," Sirius replied tersely, clearly disliking the Ministry liaison.

"Obviously, you've petitioned the Ministry for permission for Miss Granger…I'm sorry, Mrs. _Black_…to travel abroad?"

"It's Mrs. _Granger_-Black, Mr. Crisp, and I was under the impression that if she was travelling with me, there would be no need for such permission."

"Ah, yes," the man said, writing something down on a piece of parchment.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked Sirius.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, Mrs. Black. Your husband and I will be done momentarily," Mr. Crisp said, barely giving her a second glance as the lilt of arrogance made Hermione bristle.

"As I've said once before, Mr. Crisp, it's Hermione _Granger_-Black. And my wife is as much a part of this conversation as I am and I would thank you to treat her with the respect that the Noble House of Black deserves," Sirius said, his aristocratic upbringing making the Ministry man tremble slightly.

"Yes…of course. So sorry, Mrs. Granger-Black. I'm just discussing a few things before you leave on your honeymoon."

"Yes, I gathered that much," Hermione huffed, crossing her arms.

"Yes…well…erm…I will be conducting your inspections when you return. Nothing to be alarmed by, just a few routine inspections in the first 12 months…"

"Yes, we've read the amendments," Sirius snapped. "We'll contact you when we get back. Anything else?"

"And how long will you and your wife be away on your honeymoon?"

"We'll be gone for a week."

"Lovely. And where will you be going?"

Sirius glanced at Hermione.

"I would rather not say. It's supposed to be a surprise for my wife, you see…"

"Mr. Black, the Ministry understands how important it is that you enjoy your marriage to its fullest, but in the event there's an issue, we need to be able to contact you."

"My wife works at the Ministry, Mr. Crisp. There will be people who will know how to get a hold of us if they need us."

"Mr. Black, again, I hate to be a nuisance, but under amendment 124d of the Marriage Law…"

"Sirius," Hermione said gently. "Just tell him."

Sirius sighed.

"We'll be in Venice."

* * *

_Before I get those reviews, YES, next chapter will be the wedding night. I can hear all of you saying "Finally!" to your computer screens. Trust me, your relief is nothing compared to mind, as this sex scene has been burning through my brain for almost three months._

**_In the meantime, review please!_**


	22. Chapter 22: A Night to Remember

**A/N:** Two words: WARNING - SMUT!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: A Night to Remember**

**

* * *

**

Venice in November.

The little gem of northern Italy was quiet as it heaved a deep sigh, blissful in its brief respite from tourists. Dusk was falling earlier in the encroaching winter, twilight reflected in the placid water of the Gran Canal. The narrow waterways barely rippled with the occasional boat, the tiny ferries moving at the languorous pace unique to the Mediterranean way of life. Even the pigeons of St. Mark's Square were unhurried as they pecked the cobblestone ground, searching for remnants of past feedings by persistent holiday makers. All was still.

An almighty roar of manmade machine cut through the quiet serenity, causing pigeons and locals alike to start. A moment of angry engine interrupted the peace before dulling to a low rumble as a gleaming example of black and chrome slid into view, as though appearing from out of nowhere, and slid effortlessly through the narrow walkways before stopping in front of a large bridge, the couple upon the rattling machine cutting the engine.

A slightly tousled curly-haired brunette jumped off immediately.

"On the way back, _I'm_ driving," Hermione said grimly as she stood unsteadily upon the ancient stones, hand gripping the handlebars of the motorbike.

"The hell you are, darling," Sirius, astride his prized possession, replied jovially before swinging a long, denim-covered leg over to meet its twin. "Stop being so dramatic."

"Then between now and when we leave, _you_ need to learn to drive like a normal person instead of a crazy maniac in a bloody street race."

"Now now, love, where's your sense of adventure?" he asked with a cheeky grin, amused by his wife's mild shade of green.

"I think I left it over Zurich, along with most of the contents of my stomach."

"Yes, and I'm sure some innocent Swiss goatherd is standing in the Alps, looking quite puzzled by the sudden downpour of Chicken Cacciatore."

"It was Beef Wellington. And don't be vulgar, Sirius."

Sirius chuckled, standing and stretching as he surveyed his surroundings. It had been a long while since he had been in Venice. Almost twenty-five years, in fact. It had been Carnivale, the year following graduation. He and James had popped down for the festivities and merriment, Sirius to play and James to enjoy those last, precious moments of bachelorhood under the guise of acting as Sirius's chaperone. Neither man had seen much of the other, each deciding to sample Venetian culture in completely different ways. Sirius's had been in the form of the lovely Isabella. James had been in the form of mindless wandering, culminating in the purchase of what ended up being Lily Evans' engagement ring.

The Potters had also honeymooned in Venice. The thought made Sirius's heart hurt slightly.

"So," Hermione said once she had reigned in the control of her unusually sensitive gag reflex and had gotten her bearings back. "We're in Venice. Where to from here?"

Sirius smiled at the light that started to shine in her eyes.

"Well, first, benvenuti a Venezia, my dear. This bridge is the Ponte de l'Academia and our hotel is just across the canal from here."

She nodded.

"Lead on, maestro."

Sirius smirked.

"Maestro, eh? Am I to expect that title when we return to London?"

She returned a bewitching smirk of her own.

"That depends entirely on your performance tonight, _maestro_."

Sirius felt his stomach do a little somersault of anticipation.

Wheeling the bike beside them, the couple crossed over the bridge and walked down the narrow walkway along the Gran Canal, Hermione completely entranced by the beautiful architecture around her.

"Which one is the hotel?" she asked.

"That one," Sirius said, pointing to the columns of a handsome tan palazzo. "Palazzo Dario."

"And…what type of hotel is it?"

He chuckled.

"The type with a large bed and running water, I hope."

She shot him a look.

"You know what I mean. Is it…magical?"

"I'm told every honeymoon location is supposed to be magical."

"Sirius!"

He chuckled again.

"It's a wizarding hotel. Muggles think it's a private residence."

"Is it safe?"

"Hermione, love, you worry too much."

"There's much to worry about, Sirius," she countered soberly.

He sighed.

"The owner is a friend of mine. He helped me when I was on the run back during your fourth year. His name is Francesco de Medici."

Her eyes widened.

"Medici?" she squeaked, balking a few yards from the entryway as Sirius parked the bike.

"Yes, Medici. And yes, _that_ Medici. Stop worrying!" he said, nudging her toward the small courtyard.

"Sirius!" a booming voice sounded and Hermione looked up to see a rather large man in a linen suit come rushing out to greet them. He had an imposing moustache – carefully groomed – and smiling brown eyes which were fixed upon Sirius with a huge grin on his round face.

"Francesco," Sirius said, moving forward to hug the man fondly.

"Il Nero. The Black, eh? Welcome to Venice, amico mio."

"Grazie," Sirius said, moving aside to reveal Hermione. "Allow me to present my wife. Hermione Granger-Black."

"Signora! Un piacere. A pleasure," the man said, bowing low and kissing Hermione's hand before turning to Sirius. "Ah, but she is no older than my Enrico! So young for someone as old as you, Sirius."

"I'm not so old," Sirius chided good-naturedly. "And she's older than I am in many ways."

"Ah, but young in all the right ones, eh?" Francesco replied with a conspiratorial wink to his friend. "But come in! E benvenuti nel Palazzo Dario."

They followed him inside, Hermione giving Sirius a discreet, well-placed elbow in the side.

"Young in all the right ways?" she hissed.

Sirius winced slightly from the contact.

"We're in Italy, love. Leave your English sensibilities at the door and just _enjoy_, will you?"

Sighing, Hermione's mild annoyance at the innuendo started to disappear as she absorbed the grandeur around her. Bright, elaborate candle chandeliers hung from the ceilings; rich, colourful tapestries hung from the walls; reception rooms heavy with damask and plush, oversized furniture flanked a grand reception hall where Francesco was now speaking to an attractive young man in rapid Italian.

"This must be Enrico," Sirius was saying, smiling at the younger man. "Weren't you just a gangly teenager when I last saw you?"

Enrico smiled, his teeth pearly white against his tanned skin.

"That was seven years ago, signore Black," he replied, his accent revealing a Continental education. "I was just barely sixteen."

"And now look at you," Sirius mused and Hermione was suddenly struck with how old Sirius seemed to be feeling.

"You haven't aged a day, signore," the young man demurred.

Sirius let out a bark of a laugh.

"Shameless flatterer like your father," he chided. Then he turned and Hermione noticed the mirth did not quite reach his stormy eyes as he extended a hand to her. "Allow me to present my wife, Enrico. Mrs…"

"Hermione Granger," the young man responded when his eyes settled on her.

Hermione's brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry. Have we met before?"

He smiled.

"No. But you once knew a great friend of mine. He and I went to Durmstrang together."

Her eyes widened.

"You know Viktor?"

He nodded.

"He was a year ahead of me, but we played Quidditch together. Well…_he_ played. I flew around trying to stay on my broomstick."

"My son's education has taught him too much modesty," Francesco said with a chuckle. "He is a very good Beater."

"I'll bet he is," Sirius murmured, his eyes taking in the broad frame and strong arms.

Smiling slightly at the idea of Sirius feeling insecure, Hermione threaded her fingers through his and donned the countenance of a besotted newlywed.

"It's not the size of the bat, but how it's used," she said with an innocent smile that was belied by the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

There was a second of silence before Francesco started laughing, inspired, undoubtedly, by the look of shock on Sirius's face.

"Oh, sì, amico mio, she is the woman for you," he chortled as Sirius recovered with a hearty chuckle of his own.

"Saucy little minx," he murmured before tilting her chin up and brushing his lips lightly over her nose.

Hermione felt a delicious thrill slide down her spine.

"Ah, the blossoms of love," Francesco said with a sigh. "Let us give these newlyweds their suite, eh, Enrico?"

"Sì, papa," Enrico said, a bemused smile on his face. Handing Sirius the key, he gave a small bow to Hermione. "At the top of the stairs, to your right, signora," he added. "And welcome to Venice."

"Thank you," Hermione replied.

Sirius turned to Francesco.

"I had to leave my motorbike in the courtyard. It has the normal security charms but could you take care of it for me?"

"But of course," the man replied genially. "No problem."

Nodding, Sirius turned to Hermione, proffering his arm.

"Shall we, my love?"

Smiling slightly, Hermione accepted the arm and together they mounted the large marble staircase.

"Out of curiosity, how do you get away with riding a motorbike in a no car city?" she asked.

He arched an eyebrow.

"I'm a wizard, aren't I?"

Hermione gave him a look, letting him know that she disapproved of this bending of Muggle laws, but he shot her a brilliant smile and headed toward the door on the right.

"How do you know him?" Hermione asked as he turned the key. "Francesco, I mean."

"I introduced him to his wife," he replied, opening the door. "Isabella."

Hermione started to enter, but Sirius stopped her.

"We're married, remember?" he said with a grin. She frowned but then squealed as he scooped her into his arms and carried her across the threshold, putting her down with a chuckle as he kicked the door closed.

"Now was that really necessary?" she asked, straightening her shirt.

He pouted playfully.

"You really know how to take the romance out of a moment, don't you?"

"You know as well as I do that romance has…nothing…to do…with it…" she replied, her scold trailing off as she looked around.

It was clear that the grandeur of the lobby was meant to foreshadow the luxury of the suites. They had stepped into a large sitting room, carpeted by an exquisite oriental rug and filled with Louis XIV furnishings. A fire crackled merrily in the large marble fireplace and to their left, double doors stood open to the beautiful grand bedroom. Walking in, Hermione admired the soft silk sheets of the king size beg, their colour a rich, royal purple. Sheer drapes of a matching colour swayed gently in the breeze from the open doors that led out to a covered terrace overlooking the Gran Canal below.

Turning to Sirius, she saw him watching her as he leaned casually against the door frame, the very picture of the gorgeous rakehell in his fitted jeans, faded t-shirt, and black leather motorcycle jacket.

"This is…absolutely breath-taking, Sirius," she whispered.

He smiled.

"I'm glad you think so, love," he replied. He gazed over her for a second longer before shaking his head and adding: "My God, you look beautiful right now."

"Just right now?" she joked, but her laughter caught in her throat as he pushed off the frame and walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and drawing her close to him as he gazed into her eyes.

"I know we agreed no kissing," he said softly, pushing a curl from her face. "But I would really like to kiss you right now."

He bent his head toward her, not seeking permission, and as she felt his breath on her upper lip, it took everything in her power to pull back.

"No, Sirius," she said, halting his movements. "Just the fact that you want to is the very reason why we really shouldn't."

Something akin to disappointment flickered over his face as he reluctantly stepped aside, running a hand through his hair.

"This is going to be difficult enough, Hermione," he said. "Do you really wanna add an additional obstacle to the mix?"

He watched her face, noting the mixture of stubbornness and desire. He was almost sure she would acquiesce before that gleam of playful mischief appeared in her eyes and a slow, sexy smirk crossed her full, pink lips.

"Now really, Mr. Black," she said in a husky whisper. "I've never known you to back down from a challenge." She winked, side-stepping around him and heading to the open bathroom door.

"Besides," she added, looking over her shoulder. "I only said no kissing on the lips."

With a sexy wink, she closed the door behind her.

Sirius let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his cock coming to life as his brain focused on that look in her eyes. She was going to be the death of him if she continued like that. His blood pounded hotly within his body, pooling to his loins as all his memories of her over the past month – her sexy tease at the Order meeting, her delightful seduction at their engagement party, the feeling of her curves pressed against him as they kissed in their house – flooded his brain. A smile played against his lips as he heard the shower start, and he chuckled lightly as he turned toward the terrace doors, shrugging out of his jacket.

Back down from a challenge indeed. If the little witch wanted to challenge him, then by gods, he would meet it.

'_Game on, Miss Granger,'_ he thought.

***

Hermione leaned against the tiles as she let the hot water roll off her body. Why did the man have to be so damn sexy? It had taken every ounce of self control she possessed not to let his lips touch hers and as she let her speeding heart slow down, she knew that now, more than ever, they needed to hold fast to their kissing rule.

'_Your__ kissing rule,'_ a defiant voice in her brain stated.

'_Yes, __my__ kissing rule,'_ she retorted inwardly. Sex complicated things – it always did. The benefit of recent past experience told her that. Love couldn't, _wouldn't_ be a factor in her relationship with Sirius. Not that she knew first hand, but she was certain that love would hurt too much in a situation like theirs.

Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped herself in one of the hotel's sinfully-comfortable fluffy towels and walked over to the fogged mirror, gently wiping the moisture away with her palm. Heaving a deep breath, she spared a quick glance at herself in her natural form before picking up her wand and clearing the humidity from the room, readying herself for the necessary transformation from emotionally scarred, mildly neurotic bookworm to seductive, self-assured sex kitten.

Re-enlarging her suitcase, she pulled out a vial of contraceptive potion and swallowed it with a grimace. The stuff tasted horrible – which she supposed, in hindsight, was enough of a deterrent on its own from having sex – but it was a necessary precaution for that night. She had originally intended to pack only one vial but from the looks of things, Emily and Ginny had had different plans. She rolled her eyes as seven other vials clinked in her toilet bag.

Next out of the suitcase was lingerie she had bought with the girls. Hermione tried not to concentrate on the mild guilt she felt as she put it on. Though Remus seemed to be recovering remarkably well from their emotionally-draining parting, – if his constant, surreptitious glances at Emily all through the wedding were any indication, – she still felt extraordinarily guilty about her none-too-kind rejection of his emotions. Snapping the garters to the stockings, she mentally prepared herself for the idea that Sirius, and not Remus, would be the one slipping them off again.

Another practiced flick had her hair dry and flowing over her shoulders in heavy, untamed curls. Though the sheer weight of it had naturally rid it of its childhood frizziness, the defining characteristic of the brilliant know-it-all was still as unruly and unmanageable as it had ever been. Always an annoyance, Hermione was at least mollified in the knowledge that, though uncontrollable, there was softness to its texture that made up for it.

Looking in the mirror, she mentally debated the merit of wearing make-up. Though functional in seduction, make-up tended to get messy with sex. Unsure of how much seducing she would need to do, however, Hermione decided on a little smoky eye shadow and a hint of gloss for her lips.

The more she prepared, the more she realized that she really _was_ a player in a role. The bathroom was her dressing room; the lingerie her costume. The small amount of make-up was for the bright stage lights as she readied herself for the new scene of this complex play called _Marriage_. Years of practice had made her the consummate actress, and the Ministry and wizarding world were just another audience to ensnare.

Looking at the final picture in the mirror, she shifted herself mentally into character. Donning her long black silk dressing gown – a final parting gift from Tonks – she took a deep breath, placed her hand firmly on the door handle, and opened it.

Sirius was standing almost exactly where she left him, though he had rid himself of everything but his jeans. His back was to her as he looked out of the window, and she could see the shadow of ink cross the strong muscles of his shoulder blades in the flickering light of the lit sconces on the walls. Dusk had settled into night and as he turned to face her, she took another deep breath as the familiar thrill of arousal shot through her body while she took in the hard lines of muscle that defined his torso.

Slowly opening her robe, she gave a satisfied smirk as his eyes widened, their fathomless grey depths burning into her skin as his gaze swept over her, taking it all in. Letting the robe slip off her shoulders and hang at her elbows, she took a few slow paces toward him, watching him watch her as she licked her lips in anticipation.

"Well?" she finally asked, surprising herself slightly with the seductive huskiness of her voice. "What do you think?"

His eyes met hers once more and Hermione shivered. The tender affection was gone and replaced by a dark, almost dangerous need. The look was feral – animalistic in its intensity – and she bit her bottom lip as she gazed back at him.

No acting was required to match his desirous stare.

"I think," he replied, taking a step towards her. "That if you didn't want me to kiss you, you shouldn't have worn that."

Any protest she had was silenced as he crushed his lips to hers, his hands pulling her to him and moulding her almost violently to his body. She went weak in his arms, the robe falling to the ground as she rid herself of it before delving her fingers into his hair, holding his head to hers. Her body was tense with raw need as one of his arms coiled around her waist, holding her tightly to him while the other cupped her chin, uncompromising as his lips slanted over hers. He devoured her like a man starved, his tongue slipping into her mouth to dance a fiery tango with hers. She met him eagerly, all argument forgotten as she lost herself in sensation.

Sirius had never felt such a strong desire for a woman before. When she had opened her robe, all logical reasoning left his mind completely. He was suddenly primitive, his body a mass of lust and instinct. He wanted her – _needed_ her – and she would have no other than him. He had attacked her lips with single-minded concentration, the exotic spice of her intoxicating his senses until there was nothing but pure, raw nerves that frayed at her light touch.

And suddenly, he was addicted to her.

They pulled away panting and Sirius didn't miss a beat as he spun her around, her hands braced on the bed post as he tore at the laces of the corset. The sound of ripping fabric didn't faze him as he pulled the piece of clothing from her body, spinning her breathlessly back to him to expose her luscious breasts – the pert, round globes that had taunted him for longer than he cared to admit – to his hungry gaze.

Hermione gasped as Sirius's lips descended upon her neck. It had never been like this before, this intense sexuality that had her skin singing under his burning touch. She was teetering dangerously on the edge of control, overpowered by his raw masculinity as his lips, tongue and teeth danced wickedly over her neck and collarbone. His hands – large and strong – were running up and down her curves, his fingers mere inches from where she needed them.

Even on his most aggressive days, Remus had never been so controlling, so confident in his ability to render her weak.

Sirius had no such apprehension.

As he took a dusky nipple between his lips, Sirius heard the witch above him whimper, her fingers once again spearing into his hair and holding his head to her body. He growled, flicking his tongue repeatedly over the taut bud as her nails scraped his scalp. Her back arched as he went from one to the other, suckling and nipping as he felt her quiver under his touch.

Warning bells sounded in Hermione's head as Sirius's lips started to move down her stomach. This was all too much, too fast, and it felt too good too soon. She wasn't in control, and for the first time she didn't really mind. She wasn't ready for such quick intimacy. She needed to regain the upper hand and with every nerve in her body screaming in protest, she stepped away from him.

"Stand up," she demanded, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. He frowned slightly as he stood. Had he done something wrong? He had been so consumed by her, addicted to the very taste and smell of her, that he wanted nothing more than to explore every inch of her. But the tone of her voice and the fire in her eyes confused him. She seemed _angry_ with him.

Her gaze softened slightly as she read his uncertainty.

"You can't have _all_ the fun," she teased before catching his lips with hers in a brief, scorching kiss, pulling away after only a second before kissing down his neck and chest, sinking to her knees, her tongue and teeth licking and nipping the trail of hair that disappeared into his jeans as her fingers deftly worked the button and zipper of the denim, the heavy cloth pushed rapidly to the floor.

He inhaled sharply as she smirked up at him. He had gone without underwear, thinking them more of a hindrance than a help, and his cock jutted proudly out from the hollow of his hips. Her look, however, made him shiver. He admitted that the image of her full, pink lips wrapped around his member had helped him through many a lonely night, but the reality of such an act made him ache with desire. Flicking her eyes up to his wickedly, she parted her lips and he was gone. His eyes closed tightly as the sensation of her hot little mouth around him – sucking and licking in a way _no_ good girl ever should – had him grappling for those few small shreds of self control.

Hermione smirked as she flicked her tongue over the tip of his _very_ impressive cock, relishing the truly masculine salty tang. Bringing her hand up to caress his balls, she slid lower down the shaft, receiving a strangled cry for her efforts. She felt his hands clutch her hair, pulling almost painfully against the curled stands. She left her teeth graze softly against the sensitive flesh as she pulled back, hearing him whimper at the contact.

"I…I can't…" he rasped as she flicked her tongue over him again. "Stop."

When she just sucked harder, he gasped and tugged her head back, shuddering slightly as her puffy lips released him with a 'pop'. Dragging her to her feet, he stepped out of his jeans and spun her around again, splaying his hands over her hips and pushing the panties and stockings down and off in one sweep before standing up and wrapping a strong arm around her waist, lips dipping near her ear as his free hand ran down her stomach to the neatly-trimmed thatch of curls at the apex of her thighs.

"You wanna play, kitten?" he whispered hoarsely in her ear as a finger slipped between her folds, feeling her hot and wet and receiving a low keen from her responsive body. "Let's play."

Bending his knees, he guided himself into her body, groaning at the tight, wet heat that enveloped him. Her hands, once again braced against the bedpost, curled around the wood as he stretched her. He paused, allowing her to adjust to him, before tightening his hold around her waist and starting to thrust.

She purred, her back flexing at the sensation.

"Fuck, kitten," he whispered in her ear. "You're so tight."

She let out a breathless chuckle.

"Can you handle it?" she countered, tightening her body and revelling in his growl.

"Such a cheeky little witch," he breathed, curling his finger against her folds and caressing her clit.

She let out a long moan and her skin tingled as the constant, insistent push and pull of his cock made her head reel. He was deliciously slow with his thrusts, the friction inside her slowly driving her crazy as he lazily circled her nub, drawing her toward the edge with maddening slowness.

"You're everything I knew you'd be, and more," he breathed, speeding up slightly and groaning as her body tightened instinctively. "God, Hermione, you feel so good…"

"Fuck," she hissed as he gave a hard thrust, her eyes fluttering closed. "Harder. Just like that."

He chuckled and started to thrust harder, the hand around her waist moving up to cup her breast, the pad of his thumb teasing the nipple. She arched her body with a cry, moving her hips to meet his as her head tilted back. She panted, her whole being just one frayed nerve that was mere seconds from exploding.

"That's it," he murmured, sweat appearing on his forehead as his own control started to slip. "Cum for me, baby."

"You first."

He stopped, frozen for a second by her words. The same demanding, harsh tone had accompanied her challenge, but he was in no mood for more games. This was the hottest, most intense sex he had ever had, and he was _not_ going to ruin it by losing his cool like an overzealous school boy.

Slipping from her body, he turned her to face him. She was the very picture of the ravished lover. Her hair was a mass of wild curls, her lips swollen and puffy, and her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. But her eyes burned fire, challenging and defiant, and though his body ached for release, he would be damned if he didn't quench that fire first.

"No," he said, lifting her up and tossing her on the bed before crawling toward her with a predatory grace. "Ladies first."

He spread her thighs, moving between, before thrusting deep within her, his lips catching hers at the same moment and she gasped as he moulded his body against her. Hiking a leg up to his hip, he caught her hands with the other, pushing them over her head and locking them with his. Her breasts heaved as she pulled away from his kiss, eyes ablaze.

"Fuck me," she demanded.

He pistoned his hips forward, burying himself over and over within her heat. She rolled her body with his, meeting him thrust for thrust, the intensity building quicker than before and twice as strong. Their eyes never left each other as they moved, their bodies screaming for release as their brains played the game.

"Is that the best you got?" she breathed, though the coil of pleasure in her lower belly was starting to unravel. Tightening her muscles, she watched as Sirius's eyes fluttered closed for a second, his body rigid above hers.

Then his eyes opened again, and Hermione knew she was done.

Sirius's eyes blazed silver as he lost it. Nothing mattered anymore but the exquisite feel of her walls clenching around him. Releasing her wrists to grip the headboard and bending her leg up, he put his hips into high gear and thrust as hard and as fast as he could. He immediately hit a spot deep within her that had her gasping, cheeks aflame as her toes curled and her hands flew to his back.

"Fuck!" she screamed as her body exploded, her nails digging into his shoulders and raking down his back. She had never felt anything so unbelievably good, so completely _orgasmic_, as the feeling of utter sensation that rippled through her unstoppably. Her body quaked, pleasure steamrolling over her again and again in never-ending tidal waves. Her back arched and she screamed, wanting it to stop but _never_ wanting it to stop in the same breathless moment.

"Oh _God_…" Sirius groaned, his own body pitched over the edge by her greedy, clutching folds. His hips jerked, his stomach clenching and unclenching as he spilled his seed deep inside her unbearably tight body. He saw stars in front of his eyes, his brain unable to define simple truths. Up was down and down was up until he finally collapsed, utterly exhausted, on top of her soft curves.

They let there panting for several minutes, their bodies still trembling at the intensity of their orgasms. Neither had spared a glance as the rings on their fingers burned a brilliant blue before fading back to silver. Their hands, however, found each other of their own accord, lacing their fingers together in a quiet desperation to recover some sense of balance.

"I…that was…" Sirius tried to say but couldn't find the words.

"Yes," she whispered. "It was."

Looking up at her, Sirius found her expression unreadable. Though still the very picture of sex, there was a vulnerability about her that unnerved him. Doing the only thing he could think of, he leaned in and kissed her.

The passion of their frenzied need was gone, but his addiction was far from sated as he gently made love to her lips with his. She responded with the same silent desire, allowing him to just kiss her.

No more words were spoken as they slipped under the tousled bed sheets. As Sirius wrapped his arms around her waist, he realized that he could easily get used to being married to the surprising, challenging, _addicting_ enigma of a woman in his arms. With that thought happily ensconced in his mind, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, ignorant to the sudden look of troubled anxiety on his lover's face.

* * *

_Loved it? Hated it? Didn't know what to make of it?_

_Leave me a review!_

_And don't forget to vote for the Golden Duo 22 on the Twin Exchange September Challenge! Our story is a FredHermioneGeorge threesome oneshot called **Let Them Eat Cake**!_

_The link to the Twin Exchange is on my profile or the profile of my BEAUTIFUL, WONDERFUL, AMAZING, STUPENDOUS beta, GrandeVanillaSkimLatte._

_THANKS AMY! I LOVE YOU!  
_


	23. Chapter 23: A Bit of Trouble in Paradise

**A/N:** Hello all! I hope you enjoyed the previous chapter (several of you stated that you did, so I'll take that to generally mean a job well done) and now we move on to the post-sex (sorta) inevitable issues.

Bit of smut at the end - just a warning for those who don't like it.

THANK YOU, AMY! *hugs*

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three: A Bit of Trouble in Paradise**

Sirius awoke several hours later to find himself alone and naked in an unfamiliar bed.

His brain immediately found the situation unusual. In the event that he found himself naked in a foreign bed, he never woke up alone. Conversely, if he woke up alone, it was rarely naked and in a foreign bed. Slightly confused, he slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes before looking around. It was still quite dark, but he could make out the pile of clothes and lingerie on the floor and quite suddenly, everything from the past twenty-four hours came flooding back.

He was married. To Hermione Granger. And they had had the most amazing sex of his not-inexperienced life.

His body hummed at the memory of their coupling, his back deliciously stiff from the scratches her nails had left. Sirius had known the sex would be great – he had gleaned that much from the smug, rapturous look Remus tended to have after nights with the young witch – but he was completely unprepared for just how intensely earth-shattering it had been. The way her body had looked and felt beneath him was an image even _his_ debauched brain couldn't have conjured.

Thinking of the luscious sex kitten he had married refocused him, reminding him that he was now quite alone in the room. Stretching, Sirius stepped out of the bed and walked toward their clothes. As he passed the open terrace doors, however, he picked up the scent of tobacco on the air. He could see movement and he smiled slightly, pulling on his jeans before stepping onto the cool marble of the terrace.

Her back was to him, seated in one of the iron chairs with her feet propped up on the terrace's stone ledge. Her long, creamy legs extended under her silk robe, but he could tell she wore nothing else beneath. Her hair was swept up off her neck, held by a large clip, and from her fingers delicately dangled a burning cigarette.

"I didn't know you smoked," Sirius said, coming up behind her and plucking the cigarette from her hand. He hadn't smoked in so long – the last time being well before his disappearance into the Veil – and he took a deep drag as he gazed over her into the silent Venetian night, allowing the noxious fumes to circulate through his lungs before exhaling a thin wisp of smoke.

"I don't usually," she said, not looking at him as she took another from the pack on the ledge, "It's a horrible habit that I usually reserve for when I'm rip-roaring drunk and can use that as an excuse."

"And your excuse now?" he asked.

She shrugged, lighting the cigarette with the tip of her wand.

"Oliver sometimes smoked after sex. I suppose I was feeling nostalgic."

Sirius managed to swallow the bitter jealousy that had inexplicably consumed him at the mention of her ex-lover.

"Do you miss him?" he heard himself ask in spite of the fact that he didn't really want to know the answer.

"A little, I suppose," she admitted, "I guess I missed what he symbolized."

Sirius didn't say anything, not really trusting himself as he took another drag of the cigarette. In the past, he had always laughed when people warned him that sex changed a relationship. To him, sex had always been just sex, and he had never been with a woman long enough to notice any difference. But now he was certain all those warnings were absolutely right. Sex _had_ changed their relationship for him and he didn't understand why his heart ached at the idea that it hadn't seemed to change for her. He was addicted to her, suddenly attracted beyond belief to the thought of kissing her, touching her.

A stubborn voice stated definitively that it wasn't love, just lustful passion, but a softer voice argued that it could very well be something more.

"This city really is beautiful, Sirius," Hermione finally said, looking up at him, "Thank you."

"My pleasure, love," he replied with a smile, putting his hand on her shoulder. She seemed to tense at the contact, her face cautious at his endearment. She stood, his hand slipping from her as she walked away from him. She crossed her arms, pulling her robe around her body tighter as she looked over the ledge.

"Do you have any plans while you're here?" she asked after a moment.

His brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, you're stuck here with me for a week. Do you have any plans to keep yourself busy?"

Sirius chuckled slightly.

"I'd hardly consider myself _stuck_ here with you, kitten. And as far as plans, I expect I'll go where you go."

She laughed.

"Yeah, right."

He frowned.

"I fail to see the humour."

She turned to face him, looking amused.

"Come on, Sirius. Venice in November? This is hardly your type of holiday."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Really? What, pray tell, _is_ my type of holiday?"

She shrugged again.

"I don't know. Rio for Carnivale. New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Cannes for the summer. Parties, drinking, gambling. Questionably legal substances. Beautiful women in skimpy outfits."

He crossed his arms.

"Is that _really_ what you think?" he asked indignantly, "That I'm so easily contented with a life of meaningless sex and frivolity?"

Her smile faltered slightly.

"Why are you getting angry?"

"I'm not angry, just curious as to what I could've done to make you think so little of me."

"I didn't mean…"

"You know, you always think you know everything, when in reality you know very little at all."

She bristled, just like he knew she would. No one called Hermione Granger stupid and got away with it.

"Really? Well, enlighten me, won't you Sirius? _Educate_ me."

"Oh, there are several subjects on which I could educate you," he said dangerously, flicking the cigarette butt over the ledge, "But I'll start by making something_ abundantly_ clear. I never was, nor will I _ever_ be, an empty-headed playboy."

"Oh no?" she countered heatedly, "And I suppose cavorting around London on that damn bike bedding any and every available woman is the behaviour of the truly intelligent?"

"No, _that_ is the behaviour of a man who lost nearly half his life to unlawful imprisonment and two years of a dark hell your myopic mind couldn't even fathom," he snapped, walking over to her with narrowed eyes, "I may not have been the most reserved man you have ever met, but I am _not_ just another layabout with money. I have a brain and I use it."

"So do I," she said defiantly, "Though right now I fail to see the point of this sudden outburst."

"I resent the fact that you think I'm nothing more than an idiot with an oversexed libido."

"Well, _I_ resent having the participate in this farce of a marriage with an overgrown child, but sometimes that's how life plays out and as an _adult_, I have to learn to live with it!"

Sirius felt like he had just been slapped, and silence hung in the air for a second before she sighed.

"Sirius, I…"

"I didn't know you felt that way," he said softly. "I mean, I knew you were unhappy, but I suppose I assumed our friendship and mutual respect would make this arrangement more amenable. I guess that's what comes out of assumptions, though, huh?"

"I didn't mean…"

"Honestly, 'Mione?" he interrupted, his voice taking on the simmering, savage coolness she hadn't heard since the summer before her fifth year, "With everything that's happened, I thought you realized I wasn't the bad guy."

"No, I know you're not…"

"Forget it," he said, turning away. "I don't care anymore."

He walked back inside and Hermione cringed as she heard the suite door slam shut.

She closed her eyes, bracing her hands on the ledge as she let her head drop to her chest. The moment she had said those words, she knew she had crossed a line. Her words had been cruel and for the most part, entirely untrue. After all he had done, she really was the most ungrateful twit for treating him so badly. Truth be told, he didn't _need_ to marry her. And she was luckier than most at the fact that he had agreed to do so with little hesitation. He was kind, exceedingly generous, very intelligent despite her not-so-subtle intimation to the contrary, and devastatingly handsome. Any witch – or woman, really – would be lucky to land such a man.

Especially when said man could make her skin burn with unbridled desire at the slightest touch.

She supposed that was the very reason why she had said what she had and tried to push him away. Their sex had been incomparably passionate, her orgasm almost _perfect_ in its intensity. She had never felt such pleasure – never experienced such all-consuming fire – and the thought that she could feel all those things for a man she could never love scared her beyond reason.

And when, in a moment of ultimate vulnerability, she had allowed him to just _kiss_ her – like a lover – she became so overwhelmed by so many conflicting emotions that she could not contain the anxiety and sheer terror that crept into her head. It was too close, too comfortable, too _much_. Though a voice within her told her that she needed to make the arrangement work, another, louder voice told her that she couldn't. She simply _couldn't_ let their roles become so easy.

So she had pushed him away, insulting him needlessly with an outpouring of untruths, reminding him that this arrangement was just that – an arrangement. But when she looked in his eyes, she found herself confused and guilty at the hurt that settled in those dark grey orbs. She had said worse to him in their seven years of friendship – much, _much_ worse – and yet she had rarely thought twice about it then. Why was it that sex – fantastic sex, but sex nonetheless – had reduced her to a quivering mass that had her sincerely vulnerable to what she considered weak emotions like guilt?

Hermione relit her cigarette, her argument with Sirius and resulting inner musings causing the tip to burn out. Usually she abhorred the habit, having scolded Oliver several times for his indulgences. But with her body so deliciously sated and pliant and her worried mind not allowing her to relax into the sleep she so desperately needed, she had slipped out of bed and gone down to the bar for a pack as a distraction. Francesco had been unquestioningly agreeable, undoubtedly suspecting – though not without merit – that her need for nicotine had been inspired by the stereotypical post-coital bliss. He even refused the galleons she offered, cheerily telling her that Sirius would never forgive him if he took her money.

So she had come back up to the room, smiling in spite of herself as she caught Sirius's peaceful expression in the dying, flickering candlelight. Horrified at her sudden, emotionally voyeuristic behaviour, she pulled herself away and went out onto the terrace. And there she had stayed, chain smoking the hours away in quiet contemplation and terrible apprehension for the uncertain future that lay ahead for the both of them.

Sitting down again and propping her legs back up, Hermione tried to ignore the soft, delicious ache between her thighs. On top of the mountain of anxieties her overworked rain had managed to conjure in the past few hours sat the overwhelming worry that she wouldn't be able to deny her desire for Sirius. He was a drug – plain and simple – and she knew she would be unable to kick the habit with ease.

Not that she really wanted to, and therein lay the issue.

Sighing, she stretched out her limbs and sat up. She didn't want to spend the next six days in a tense situation, and going home wasn't an option. The Ministry knew where they were now, thanks to the diligent Mr. Crisp, and inevitably someone would be watching them. She didn't want to go through their honeymoon on edge for fear that the tension would cause them to break character.

Character indeed. It was hard to know where reality was ending and the play was starting anymore. She had enjoyed the sex – more than enjoyed it – but it wasn't supposed to be that real. And in her efforts to compensate, she had gone from lover to shrew with a rapidity that would have had Shakespeare aching with whiplash. She needed to think, to regroup, perhaps even to soliloquize in order to get back the character she needed to assume.

And to remember that it was just a character in the first place.

Standing up and flicking her cigarette over the ledge, she grabbed the half-smoked pack and headed inside. Shower first – the rest would come eventually.

***

Sirius took a sip of his firewhiskey, letting the bitter beverage slide down his throat as he stared down at the grain of the polished mahogany counter. He was aware of Francesco's questioning gaze, but ignored his friend as he fumed. His anger was slightly irrational – he knew Hermione hadn't meant her harsh words and in all honesty, she _had_ said much worse to him in the course of their relationship. He couldn't, however, shake off the annoyance he had at the fact that she _resented_ the marriage.

Though initially he, too, had been resentful of the arrangement, he quickly realized that it could have been much, _much_ worse for him. His status as a pureblood would have had him betrothed to a complete stranger, and though he would have helped that poor woman uncomplainingly, deep down he knew that there was no one he would have rather been stuck in a sham marriage with than the infuriating know-it-all who had rapidly wormed her way into his consciousness.

"Sirius, what are you doing down here?" Francesco finally asked, sliding Sirius another glass when the raven-haired wizard downed the contents of his first one.

"Having a drink," Sirius replied with a grunt, his grey eyes fixed on the rich amber liquid in front of him.

"Yes, but why are you not upstairs, making love to that beautiful young wife of yours, eh? I trust you have no problems already. It is still so early."

Sirius smiled wryly.

"You'd like to think that, wouldn't you?" he mumbled, taking another sip of his drink and grimacing.

"Ah," Francesco said with a knowing smile, "Un litigio degli amante. A lovers' quarrel, yes?"

"Yeah. Something like that," Sirius sighed, glancing up at his friend, "She's a bit…high spirited."

Francesco chuckled.

"But you could not love a woman who is not…how do you say, high spirited, uh? It would bore you."

"Love has very little to do with it, Cesco," Sirius said solemnly.

"Sirius, I may not be so worldly as you, but I know what is going on in England right now. And though I pretend, I also know very well who your lovely bride is and, more importantly, what that means."

Sirius looked up quickly, a slight fear in his eyes. Francesco's look, while meaningful, was not full of malice or malcontent. Sirius let out a sigh of relief, almost ecstatic at the prospect of a confidant.

"She's a wonderful woman," Francesco mused, tipping more whiskey into Sirius's glass, though the pureblood noticed it wasn't as much as he had poured before.

"She can be," Sirius acquiesced, running his finger over the lip of the glass.

"I see you care about her very much."

"Yes," he admitted. "But it's nothing. Just…necessity."

Francesco laughed.

"I wish I had such a necessity," he joked.

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head.

"It was…Merlin, it was such a _stupid_ argument. I'm not even sure I remember what we were arguing about."

"I think, my friend, you will find that will happen often," Francesco said sagely.

Sirius groaned.

"I don't think I can handle arguments on a consistent basis. It's exhausting."

"Ah, yes. But the love making after," Francesco kissed his fingers, "It is equally as exhausting, yes?"

Sirius sighed.

"I honestly wouldn't know."

"Wouldn't you like to find out?"

Sirius's mind wandered back a few hours and he felt his body heat up at the image of Hermione's flushed cheeks, blazing eyes, and pliant, supple body.

Francesco chuckled.

"I am thinking Hermione is quite beautiful when she is angry, yes?"

"Breath-taking."

"There is a passion in her?"

Sirius laughed.

"Yes."

"Then you go, you apologize, and you light that passion, eh?"

Sirius frowned.

"Apologize? But I didn't do anything wrong!"

Francesco chuckled again.

"Amico mio, it is a very rare woman who will apologize first," he said, leaning against the bar and putting three fingers up, "There are three rules to a happy marriage, my friend. Eat everything she cooks, love no other woman but her, and always apologize before you sleep. Do that, and all will be…perfetto!"

"I'm not going to bloody apologize for something I didn't bloody do," Sirius muttered mutinously into his glass.

"A very rare woman, Sirius. A _very_ rare woman."

"Sirius?"

The men turned to see Hermione in the doorway. She had showered, her hair falling in damp ringlets around her face. She wore the same silk gown and Sirius couldn't help but admire her curves under the tightly-belted cloth. Her eyes were warm and remorseful, and suddenly Sirius didn't care as much about his wounded pride.

Hermione walked towards them, her eyes fixed on her husband. She had decided during her shower that her first course of action would be to apologize – she owed him at least that much for all he had done – and for the sake of appearances, she would spend the week as the doe-eyed newlywed. Though she intended to reinstate the no-kissing rule – and a no-sex rule if she could manage it – she would let him know that she would try as hard as she could to make their marriage as painless as possible.

For _both_ of them.

"I'm sorry," she said when she reached them, putting her hand on his knee with a soft smile, "I shouldn't have said what I did. Not only is it untrue, but it's also unfair to you after everything you've done for me – for us, really." She looked tentatively at Francesco before adding, "I'm not making excuses, but understand that this was all…very fast."

Sirius swallowed hard, trying to focus on her words as they left that enticing little mouth of hers. His mouth couldn't articulate the words he wanted to say, his brain suddenly flashing images of a potential sexual replay through his head. Unable to speak, he took her hand and pulled her close, brushing a curl from her face before bending his head and brushing his lips over hers. Though she didn't object, he felt her tense beneath his touch, and he knew she would probably have more to say once they were in private.

As Sirius stood, Francesco caught his eye with a meaningful smile.

"Sì, il Nero," Francesco said with a wink. "A very rare woman indeed."

***

They walked up to the room in silence, and once they had closed the door, Hermione turned to him.

"I think we should lay down some ground rules so what happened on the terrace doesn't happen again," she said.

He arched an eyebrow.

"Are you telling me that you're not going to get irrationally angry at me ever again if we set down these ground rules?"

The corner of her mouth twitched in mirth and she shook her head.

"I promise nothing," she said, a teasing lilt to her voice, "However, it will make things a bit easier, I think."

"I'm all ears," Sirius replied, sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at her.

She took a deep breath.

"I'm sure you've considered that, in view of their knowledge of our location, the Ministry will be watching us while we're in Venice," she started, pausing for his confirmation.

He nodded, and she pressed on.

"So…I suppose we'll need to spend this next week together…like you said," she continued, preempting his expected protest. "When we're in public, we play the parts of doting lovers. After what's happened tonight, however, I think we need to consider…erm…not sleeping together."

Sirius blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, we can sleep together. But…you know…just sleep," she finished lamely.

She saw a spark of amusement in his eyes.

"Are you telling me that you don't want to have sex?"

"Er…yes. I mean, no. I mean…no, I don't think we should have sex," she faltered, blushing slightly while at the same time berating herself for sounding like a stuttering idiot.

He stood, taking a step closer and grinning smugly as he heard her sharp intake of breath.

"Ever?" he breathed, bringing his hand to her cheek.

"I…yes," she said, taking a step back.

'_Brilliant, Hermione,'_ her brain chastised as she felt her back hit the wall. _'You've just cornered yourself.'_

Sirius, always the sexual opportunist, took another step towards her, once again closing the distance so his body was within touching distance of hers.

"Never ever?" he asked, the smug smile still on his face.

"Yes," she said, mustering all the strength she had to keep the whimper from her voice. "I don't think it's a good idea."

"That's not what you were saying earlier," he mumbled, his lips brushing against her cheek and starting down her neck. She brought her hands to his chest, pushing against him to try and push him away, but she wasn't really trying and from the chuckle that left his lips, he knew it.

"Sirius…we can't," she said, though she tilted her head to allow his searching lips more room.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because…because sex changes things."

He pulled back, looking into her eyes and finding himself slightly surprised to find her mildly panicked.

"And you think that's a bad thing," he stated, trying to comprehend where her brilliant – albeit slightly manic – brain was coming from.

"You don't?" she asked.

"Not really. Are you in love with me?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"No!" she replied, her answer slightly too quick for her taste, but with conviction. "Are you in love with _me_?"

He took his time with his response, looking over her body and admiring the heaving breasts that were peeking through the material of her gown. He went to the sash of the robe, tugging it free and watching as she made no motion to stop the silk from parting and revealing her soft curves.

"I might love your body," he joked, though he admitted there was more than a grain of truth in the words. "But I'm not in love with you."

He watched her face carefully, trying to see if there was any hurt – any flicker of emotion – at his words. Her expression, however, remained maddeningly unreadable.

"I still don't think…"

"Hermione, we're married and we have fidelity bonds. You can impose such a restriction if you want, but you'll need to get used to me having more than a couple good wanks a week if you do," he interrupted, sliding his knee between her legs as his hands moved smoothly up her sides as a slow grin started to appear. "Though I wouldn't have a problem with that if I got to watch you touch yourself while I did it."

She slapped his shoulder.

"That's crude, Sirius," she said, though she knew she was fighting a losing battle as her skin blazed fire where he touched her.

"Tell you what," he murmured, dipping his lips to her neck once more as his fingers found her taut nipples. "Let's use this week to discover each other. See whether we're as amazing together as we were earlier or whether the Weasley twins slipped us something at the wedding that caused us to have phenomenally hot sex." She let out a huff of air at that thought, and he smirked, "We'll decide whether or not to continue to have sex once we get back to London. Let's just pretend we're real honeymooners for now, though, because I swear to Merlin, kitten, I _really_ enjoyed earlier."

"Me too," she breathed, letting her eyes slide closed as he played her body like a master pianist on a Steinway.

"Good," he said, kissing up her neck toward her lips.

Warning bells sounded, and she tilted her head away.

"No kissing on the lips," she said.

He sighed.

"Kitten, I hate to be a pain, but really…"

"Non-negotiable, Sirius," she interrupted, hardening her gaze so he knew she meant business.

For a moment she thought she saw his eyes flicker with frustration but then he smiled slightly, shaking his head.

"I'll tell you one thing, baby," he whispered, nipping her earlobe. "You do make things interesting."

Moments later, he had spun her to face the wall, her robe discarded and her wrists locked above her head by his hand as his other hand trailed down her back. She shivered under his touch, the heat and anticipation arousing her beyond measure.

"I thought I would play for a little," Sirius whispered in her ear. "But I simply can't wait to be inside you."

She whimpered, suddenly finding herself aching for his cock. She had never been so turned on by a man – nor been so trusting during sex – but Sirius made her feel positively wicked and ecstatic in the same moment. She panted as she heard the zipper of his jeans lower, and within a few seconds, he had buried himself inside her.

"Mmm, kitten, you feel so fucking good," he growled before thrusting hard and fast into her tight body.

Their sex was frantic – quick and intense – but Hermione was screaming at the overwhelming pleasure of it. He felt so perfect. Everything felt so _perfect_. And as she came, her body tense as she clawed at the wall, she felt a wave of mild nausea hit her at the idea that she could _not_ deny him.

He gripped her hip as he came, groaning her name in her ear. She tried to banish the thought that her name from his lips was the sexiest thing she had ever heard, but the thought – and the ensuing arousal – would not leave her brain.

"Christ, Hermione, why did it take us getting _married_ to have sex?" he murmured as he stepped away from her, allowing her to move from the wall back to the bed. The sun was peeking over the horizon but since neither had gotten much sleep, they weren't in the mood to greet the morning.

"The fates have messed with us enough to know that if they coupled us _without_ fantastic sex, there would be cosmic retribution," she said with a yawn, collapsing against the soft sheets.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against his body. She fit so well into him that he silently wondered if she wasn't carved in the exact shape made for him. He pushed the thought from his mind, shaking his head. Fantastic sex or not, the fates wouldn't be kind enough to give him both a brilliant bed partner _and_ his soul mate.

He just wasn't that lucky.

* * *

_Love it? Hate it? Don't know what to make of it?_

_Leave a review!_

_FYI - reviews make the updates quicker *wink*  
_


	24. Chapter 24: An Artist's Rendering

**A/N: **Yes, I know, it's been an unforgivably long time, especially since the end of the last chapter stated that updates come faster with reviews, and everyone was so kind to review. Unfortunately, a series of unfortunate (and unforeseen) events stalled me in my writing process, as well as a not-so-nice form of writer's block. HOWEVER, I have a very clear idea of where I want the story to go in the next 5 or so chapters, so hopefully, there will be more frequent updates in the next couple of weeks.

Smut for the first 1/2 of the story. If that's not your thing (though, considering you've read this far, I couldn't imagine it wouldn't be) scroll through toward the end!

THANK YOU, AMY!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four: A****n Artist's Rendering**

The sun was sitting high in the sky the next day when Hermione felt consciousness break over her, snuffling slightly as a curl tickled her nose. Her eyes hurt from the light streaming through the sheer curtains. Though romantic, the curtains did very little to shield the bright midday sunlight, and Hermione groaned as she buried her face into her pillow, trying to find a blissful respite for her aching corneas.

A deep chuckle sounded from beside her.

"Good morning, kitten," she heard Sirius say, "Or rather, good afternoon."

"Mmm…" she managed to grunt as she tried to fall back into the blissful sleep she had been pulled from.

"It's almost one," Sirius continued, his fingers dancing lazily over her bare back. "I thought you wanted to explore Venice?"

"Five more minutes," she said childishly, though she knew she was fighting a losing battle as Sirius's fingertips awoke her nerves and her arousal.

From the sensual caressing Sirius had started, he seemed to know just what her body wanted from him.

"I don't think five minutes is enough time for what I had in mind, kitten," he breathed in her ear and her eyes fluttered open as he started to knead her flesh, massaging her muscles with amazing dexterity as his hands moved lower and lower.

'_Damn this man,'_ Hermione thought, groaning as his magical fingers found her sensitive lower back.

She heard him chuckle, shivering in anticipation as his lips grazed over the back of her shoulders. She could feel him shift as he straddled her, his hands bracing his weight on either side of her. She could feel his cock brush against her backside.

"As much as I love taking you from behind, love, I would rather watch you come apart beneath me, if it's all the same to you," he said.

She willed her body to listen to her muscle functions as she lazily turned to face him, her eyes hooded in half-sleep and desire as his own lust-filled grey surveyed her body, pausing appreciatively at her gently-heaving breasts.

"Merlin, 'Mione…you've got gorgeous tits," he murmured before lowering his lips to a taut nipple.

She gasped, her hands moving of their own accord to his hair as strong jolts of pleasure shot through her body with every flick of his devilish tongue. As he moved to lave the other nipple, Hermione cried out, fisting the soft strands of black hair and arching her back.

"Sirius…" she gasped, pulling his head up, "Inside. Now."

He gave her a smug smirk that would have infuriated her had she not wanted him so badly, and dipped down to lick and suck and her sensitive pulse point. His hands ran over the curves of her body, parting her legs as he settled his hips between them. Guiding himself slowly – torturously – inside her, she let out the breath she had been holding as she was once again deliciously stretched by his impressive cock.

She had almost forgotten how amazingly sensual morning sex was. Her past relationships – if she could even call them that – had not allowed for much experience, simply because she was usually not in the mood or too harried in the mornings for it. While she and Oliver had managed a quickie or two in the shower as they readied for their days, those frantic shags were nothing like the slow, unhurried sex of a lazy morning tumble.

She was so sensitive from their comparatively rough sex the night before that Sirius quickly had her squirming. She could feel every slow, calculated thrust of his body, the friction igniting her very core as his lips sought her neck, nibbling up to her ear.

"I could stay inside you forever, Hermione," he whispered.

Unable to form a coherent response, she wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into his back to urge him deeper as she rolled her hips with his. The both groaned as he started to move just a bit faster, his thrusts going deeper as he pushed them toward completion.

"Jesus…" she breathed as the coil within her suddenly snapped, raking her nails down his biceps as she shuddered in her orgasm. Arching her back again, she felt his lips descend on her breasts, groaning as he licked a rosy nipple and feeling his control start to break as she clung to him.

He gasped her name as he came, his head falling to her shoulder as his body tensed. Releasing spurt after hot spurt into her sweetly clutching body, he held himself over her for one more delicious second before collapsing on top of her with a final shudder.

They lay like that for a few minutes in silence, letting their hearts slow as his warm breath on her neck caused goose bumps to form on her skin. Once again of their own accord, her hands found his hair, running her fingertips through the silky strands. Her stomach started to clench as the familiar unease started to descend.

Looking at him, Hermione took a deep breath and pushed the feeling aside.

"Well," she said, trying to keep the tremble of insecurity out of her voice and compensating by sounding more chipper than she actually felt. "Good afternoon to you too."

He chuckled.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I didn't really intend for this to happen this morning?"

She laughed.

"No, considering you started it."

"Well, you're just so damn adorable when you wake up and I'm only human, after all." He groaned, rolling off her before adding, "That was some of the best morning sex I've had."

She smirked slightly, stretching out her satisfied limbs.

"I can't remember the last time I had really good, lazy morning sex," she replied.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes. Ron had atrocious morning breath, so that killed the mood. Oliver and I always woke up late, and I stopped spending the night with Remus awhile back." She sighed, running her hand absently over her stomach. "It was probably Remus. The last really good anything was Remus." She glanced at Sirius and grinned slightly at the look of mild jealousy on his face. "Before you, that is."

He smirked again.

"I taught him everything he knows," he teased.

She laughed.

"Oh, there are some things you could learn from him. Ron was good and Oliver was great but Remus," She gave a small, private smile, "Well, there's something to be said for the delicious mixture of age, experience, and sheer animal instinct."

"Animal instinct, eh?" Sirius said playfully and before she could protest, a large black shaggy dog was licking her face with slobbery doggy kisses.

"Sirius!" she squealed, batting the Grim-like dog away as she tried to escape his cold nose. "Stop it!"

Snuffles barked happily, giving one more lick before jumping off the bed and trotting confidently toward the bathroom.

"Wait a minute!" she called as he disappeared from view. "Who said you could get the bathroom first?"

Sirius materialized at the door and grinned at her.

"You need to move faster next time," he said cheekily, chuckling as he ducked back into the bathroom and closed the door just as she hurled a pillow in his general direction.

Hermione lay back, a bubble of laughter threatening to burst from her throat. A long time ago – when she still had fanciful notions of happily ever after – Sirius would have been as good as any dark-haired prince from central casting. Smart, gorgeous, playful, and an absolute demon in bed, she let herself take a moment to imagine an alternate universe where she was allowed – truly allowed – to love a man like him.

But she couldn't. And she knew she couldn't. The script didn't allow for such extreme improvisation.

A grumble in her stomach interrupted the seeping melancholy that threatened her mood and reminded her that it had been almost twenty-four hours since she had eaten anything. Forcing herself out of bed, she located her discarded robe and threw it on before walking over to the bathroom and knocking on the door.

"Merlin, woman, give me a minute!" came the reply.

She chuckled.

"I just wanted to know if you were hungry," she said.

The door opened and Hermione had to tear her eyes away from his deliciously naked body.

"Ravenous," he growled with a smirk, pulling her to him and pressing her against the door frame.

She laughed as she half-heartedly tried to push him away.

"I _meant_ for food," she said.

"Hmm…that too…" he replied, dipping his head and nibbling at her exposed collarbone.

"Sirius!" she cried, mustering every fibre of self-control within her to push him back.

"Oh, you meant _actual_ food?" he said with a wink.

"_Yes_," she replied in mild exasperation.

"Well, in that case, yes, kitten, I'm starved."

She put her hands on her hips.

"As am I. I suppose you wouldn't have any insight as to _how_ one can acquire said sustenance, would you?"

He paused, looking around the room before pointing to a thick gold cord in the corner.

"Pull that. Someone should be up momentarily."

"Thank you."

He gave her another heated look.

"You're welcome to join me, kitten," he said, arching an eyebrow suggestively.

"It's tempting," she admitted. "But I think I'm too hungry for that."

"Suit yourself," he replied, and the closed the bathroom door again.

Walking over to the bell pull, Hermione gave it a sharp tug before taking a step back, still unsure of what would happen. She almost jumped when a loud 'pop' sounded behind her, and she wheeled around to see a small house elf dressed in a neat little tea towel looking up at her with large, round brown eyes.

"Mistress rang for Lilia?" the tiny elf squeaked, giving Hermione a low curtsy.

"I…er…yes, I suppose I did," Hermione replied.

Having spend years championing the rights of magical creatures, Hermione was mildly frustrated by the idea that the beautiful, pristine palazzo ran on what she considered slave labour. Knowing, however, that an impromptu rant on elf rights would not only insult the creature before her, but also draw attention to her less-than-popular politics at a time when she didn't need the publicity, Hermione swallowed her practiced speech and gave the elf a large, kind smile.

"If it's not too much trouble," she started graciously, "My husband and I are quite hungry. We understand if the kitchen is closed…"

"Oh no, mistress," the elf piped in. "Begging your pardon for interrupting, mistress, but Signore de Medici never closes the kitchens. Lilia is happy to get mistress whatever she likes."

"Right," Hermione said awkwardly, unaccustomed to giving any type of orders. "Er…well…what would you suggest?"

The elf's protuberant eyes went even wider.

"Lilia couldn't say, mistress. Lilia could make roast lamb, or fettuccini, or smoked salmon…"

Hermione's stomach turned slightly at the idea of such rich food so soon after waking up, so she interrupted the elf's rambling with a tentative smile.

"I…er…don't suppose you could do a simple English breakfast, could you?"

The elf's face brightened.

"Oh yes, mistress. Lilia likes making English breakfast. All the English guests says mine is better than in England."

"Fantastic," Hermione said with relief. "Um…two, please?"

"Tea and coffee, mistress?"

"If it's not too much bother."

"Of course, mistress."

Beaming happily at the request, the tiny being disapparated.

Dropping the happy façade, Hermione stalked to the bathroom.

"House elves?!" she seethed, pushing the door open and letting a cloud of steam out as she stepped into the room. "Sirius Black, you _know_ how I feel about…house…elves."

Hermione cursed her feminine weakness as her ire quickly disappeared at the sight of her husband. His head was tilted back, allowing the warm water to flow through the ebony locks, trickling down his body over the hard planes of muscle of his chest and torso. As he turned to look at her, he shook the water from his hair, leaving it plastered sexily over his forehead as it dripped water onto his shoulders.

"Close the door, love. You're letting the cold air in," he said as he grabbed a bar of soap and started to lather it between his large, strong hands. Hermione did as she was told, though she was feeling her body react as she continued to stare at his body.

"Thank you," he said once the door was closed. "Now…what are you on about now?"

Hermione opened her mouth to chastise him, but the only thing that came out was the thought that ran through her mind at that precise moment:

"Dear Merlin, you are sexy."

Sirius paused, his expression a mixture of shock at her candour and growing desire as a soft flush started to creep up her neck. He had already discovered that the young witch was a sexual force to be reckoned with – and not particularly modest about it. But when he woke up beside her – holding her – he had seen a vulnerability to her that seduced him far more than the sexy siren he had seen the night before. She was beautiful and infuriating and intriguing all at once, and he couldn't stop himself from wanting her every second of the day.

His many years of life had told him that women like her didn't drop from the sky, and every second that passed made him want to unlock her secrets and shield her from the darkness that seemed to follow her relentlessly.

The idea that he was allowing such tender adoration into his mind scared him, and as she watched him unblinkingly, he sported a smug smile and arched an eyebrow.

"Propositioning me, are you, Granger?" he teased, putting the soap down and rinsing his hands before opening the shower door, "And me in such a vulnerable position. It's hardly fair. You can see me but I can't appreciate your absolutely gorgeous body."

Her eyes flashed and a slow, smirk spread across her face, the look shooting straight to his twitching erection.

"All you have to do is ask, Mr. Black," she purred, pulling the tie of her robe and letting it dip off her shoulders but leaving the portion of her body that he _really_ wanted to see covered.

He let out a breath.

"Get in the shower, wench," he growled, his eyes narrowing as her smirk challenged him.

"So demanding," she breathed, letting the silk fall off her shoulders in a pool at her feet.

He almost heaved her into the shower with him.

"I don't know what you do to me, witch," he whispered as he watched the water roll over her curves and feeling an irrational sense of jealousy toward the droplets, "But whatever it is, don't stop."

His lips found her neck – his go-to place since he couldn't kiss those full, torturous lips – and his hands smoothed down her silky skin. Her fingers curled against his shoulder as the sensuality of the water beating down on them combined with the natural chemistry that seemed to exude between them. He inhaled her, devoured her, and for the first time in his life, found himself shaking in anticipation of being one with her. The magic she seemed to weave over him only strengthened and he wondered – not for the first time – if there had been something _other_ than the regulatory marriage charms that had been cast over them to make him crave her so much.

As he pressed her against the cool tiles, he knew that no charm could possibly cause the incredible heat within him every time she looked at him. And as he buried himself inside her once more, groaning as her body wrapped around him so _perfectly_, he also knew that he could not possibly find such completion with anyone other than her.

The role was getting too easy.

The sex was too good.

The chemistry was too perfect.

But as Hermione moaned his name, Sirius was too intoxicated to care.

***

Later, when they finally made it out of the bathroom, they found a cozy little breakfast for two set up on the terrace, warming spells conjured around it to keep out the early November chill. A neatly-pressed copy of the _Daily Prophet_ sat on the table, along with a note from Francesco.

"He said there's an exhibit by a wizard artist showing not far from here," Hermione said, taking a bite of her tomato as she read the note. She groaned as the savoury taste enveloped her senses. The other English guests hadn't exaggerated about Lilia's culinary talents – it was the best English breakfast she had ever tasted.

"What's the name of the artist?" Sirius asked, cutting into his sausage. He, too, groaned appreciatively at the taste.

"He doesn't say," Hermione replied, passing the note to him so she could give her food the attention it deserved. "He just said it was a travelling exhibition that appeared in the 1970s and concentrates on the realism in magic."

Sirius read the note as he chewed a bite of black pudding. Then he shrugged.

"I'm up for it if you want to go," he said.

"Really?" she said. "You don't strike me as someone who likes art." He sent her a dark look and she hurriedly added, "But I've been wrong before."

A smile played on his lips.

"Don't worry," he said, "I won't tell anyone that you admitted that."

They sat talking and eating, discussing just how badly the Harpies would beat the Canons in Ginny's first match later that night. They chuckled at the idea of Ginny mocking her elder brother after the inevitable – and undoubtedly crushing – defeat the Canons would sustain. They both wondered how long it would take for Ron to realize that – while the Canons did try – they would never beat the Harpies or any other team that worked like a well-oiled machine until they started playing at the same level instead of chugging along like a clunking heap of scrap metal.

They were just finishing when Sirius decided to unfurl their copy of the _Daily Prophet_, and both were surprised to come face-to-face with a front page picture of the two of them dancing their first dance at their wedding the day before.

"Why on earth did we make the front page?" Hermione asked in wonder, standing and walking behind Sirius's chair to get a better look.

"Apparently it was a slow news day," Sirius deadpanned.

"I knew Kingsley and Mr. Weasley wanted the paper to show us prominently to discourage any more Death Eater attacks on us, but this is overdoing it a bit, don't you think?"

"I don't know. Two prominent members of wizarding society joining together in wedded bliss? Sounds like front page material to me," Sirius teased.

Hermione snorted.

"Prominent members indeed," she sniffed. "I can just see Ron's Aunt Muriel now." She hunched her shoulders over and scrunched her face into a very unpleasant sneer. _"What's that attractive pureblood Sirius Black doing with Harry Potter's little Muggleborn friend? Clearly Azkaban has lowered his standards of beauty,"_ she said in an eerily close impression of her ex-boyfriend's cantankerous relative.

Sirius chuckled and pulled Hermione down onto his lap.

"First, kitten, I don't give a deuce about what Ron's Aunt Muriel thinks, and second, it seems you're insinuating that you're not attractive enough for me, which I think we've disproved – four times, by my count."

Hermione rolled her eyes as she chuckled, choosing to ignore the potential danger of continuing along the lines of the insecurity she had unintentionally shown him as she opened the paper to read the article that ran with the pictures.

"You know, I really do like you in that dress," Sirius said, letting his chin sit on her shoulder as he read behind her. When she turned, arching her eyebrow, he smirked. "I think it's the only time I could suspend my disbelief of your innocence."

She laughed, pushing his shoulder before turning back to the article.

"I know Harry and Ginny are supposed to be happy for us, for appearances sake, but I do wish their quotes weren't _quite_ as enthusiastic," Hermione grumbled after a few moments, stealing a bit of bacon off Sirius's plate and popping it into her mouth.

"I'd thank you not to eat my food, Miss Granger," Sirius huffed, moving his plate away from her hungry gaze.

"It's _Mrs._ Granger-_Black_," she teased.

He narrowed his eyes.

"Just because we're married doesn't mean I willingly relinquish possession of my delicious breakfast meats," he said stoutly.

She bit her lip and looked into his eyes.

"Really? Not even this once?" she asked.

He gazed up into her big brown eyes, controlling himself so he didn't lean in and kiss that defiant little mouth that was now curling into a disarmingly innocent smile. He had seen so many sides of her since that fateful Order meeting when she had slinked toward him, all catlike grace and feminine wiles, but the novelty of his burning desire for her still hadn't faded despite having shagged her four times – nearly a record for him with the same witch. It didn't matter if her eyes flashed womanly fire or blinked ingenuously at him. The effect was the same.

"Merlin, woman," he said, louder than he intended as he slid the plate toward her. "Does anyone _ever_ deny you anything with a look like that?"

She smirked as she nibbled on another piece of bacon.

"Not really, no."

She grinned at him before kissing him sweetly on the cheek and stood, walking back to her own chair and plopping back down, propping her feet up on the terrace ledge and chewing contemplatively as she looked up at the beautiful azure sky.

"It's almost two-thirty," Sirius said, glancing at his watch, "Cesco said the gallery closes at seven, so I suppose we should start getting ready."

Hermione glanced at him, arching an eyebrow again.

"You suspect it might take four hours to get out of here?"

He smirked.

"Depends on how many times you plan on propositioning me while I'm trying to dress."

He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively and she rolled her eyes.

"Go get dressed, you arrogant arse. I'll stay out here so you can remain unmolested."

Sirius froze at her words and all of sudden, it felt like the warming charms on the terrace had disappeared as a chill settled between them. Turning to face her, he saw her eyes were darker than they had been and her face tense.

"I…um…" he started but she shook her head with a weak smile.

"I'm sorry. Unfortunate choice of words." She sighed, standing. "Go get dressed. I think I'll have a cigarette while I wait."

Lunging for the half-smoked pack on the table, Sirius whisked it away before she could grab them.

"I noticed you smoke more when you're tense or uneasy," he said matter-of-factly when she looked at him in confusion. "And I don't like you tense or uneasy around me."

She smiled slightly at him, looking at the cigarettes before looking back up at him. Taking a few steps toward him, she tentatively brought a hand up to his face. Once again caught up in her eyes and the feel of her touch, he didn't notice until it was too late that she had somehow taken the pack back from him.

She kissed his cheek softly before patting it gently.

"Go get dressed," she whispered, "I'll be in soon."

She turned away and he sighed.

"You're going to have to learn that I don't give up that easily, Hermione. And we might not be married for real, but I do care about you, and I don't like seeing you like this," he said before turning back toward the door.

As he stepped inside, he turned once more to look at her as she looked down at the pack of cigarettes in her hand. A small smile crossed his face as she slipped them into the pocket of her robe, instead deciding to lean against the terrace ledge to watch the lazy-moving boats below her on the canal.

He turned back to the room with the same smile on his face.

Baby steps.

***

An hour later, Sirius and Hermione stepped out of the Palazzo Dario and headed along the canal hand-in-hand. Concerned by the possibility of a Ministry operative following their every move, Hermione walked close to Sirius, trying to keep a ridiculous grin on her face. It wasn't until they rounded a narrow alley, however, that Sirius verbalized his growing amusement at the young witch's behaviour.

"You grin any wider, kitten, and your face'll crack," he joked, wrapping his arm around her waist to avoid her treading on his feet for a third time.

"I can't help it! I feel so…so…exposed," she replied.

He chuckled, running his hand comfortingly up and down her arm.

"I know we're supposed to be giddy newlyweds, but you're not convincing anyone with that smile. Your enjoyment needs to be genuine."

"I'm open to suggestions, _maestro_," she said sarcastically.

He shrugged.

"I'm not the worst company, you know. Maybe we could just talk." Then he smiled. "I could regale you with tales of my misspent youth," he suggested.

She smirked.

"I thought you wanted me to smile, not grimace."

"Oh…ouch, Granger."

She smiled and looked up at him, wondering what on earth she had been so worried about. Despite their differences before he went into the Veil, she had learned to enjoy his company upon his return, when she was older and more mature and he was less inclined to sulking. He was pleasant and charming, dry but never insincere. Slowly relaxing, they fell into an easy conversation about his years with the Marauders, and Hermione found herself smiling – if not laughing hysterically – as they walked along the canals.

"I would have given anything for a camera that next morning," Sirius was saying as he described a prank he and his friends had pulled on some of the Slytherins his seventh year. "The look on Slughorn's face when half of his house rushed to him with snake scales on their hands was worth the month of detentions."

Hermione shook her head with a laugh.

"How is it that you were best friends with the Head Boy _and_ a seventh-year prefect, and you _still_ got caught?"

He smiled.

"Someone had to cover for them, didn't they? Mind, it wasn't too bad that time. Met an _extremely_ interesting young woman in detention that month." His eyes sparkled at the memory. "Amy Collins. I still remember her. She was a Slytherin, but one of the few good ones. And the things that girl could do with her body…"

He trailed off and Hermione felt a bubble of possessiveness creep into her body.

"So…how long did _that_ last?"

He shrugged.

"On and off for the rest of the year. She didn't like to be tied down either. We stayed really good friends, though. Her best friend dated Remus for a long time." A small smile crept onto his face. "Meg Bastion-Davies. She was a pistol too. Remus found that out and enjoyed it immensely, though I never told him that I discovered her – shall we say, _hidden talents_ – fifth year in a deserted classroom during OWLs." He smiled at Hermione. "Both Amy and Meg were almost as smart as you, kitten. There was no stopping those two when they put their heads together. Reminded me a bit of James and myself."

Hermione smiled slightly. She had never heard Sirius talk about any of his female friends when he was at Hogwarts, assuming that he had never really had any because of his reputation. She knew a little bit about Remus's former paramour, though Remus didn't talk about her that much. Hermione had always assumed things ended badly, but Sirius seemed to be talking as though they had continued a relationship past their Hogwarts years.

"Remus doesn't say a lot about Meg. Did things end badly?" she asked.

Sirius's face darkened slightly.

"She was killed," he said. "Amy too. Just a year after graduation. Destroyed Remus for awhile. I think he was thinking about marrying Meg."

"Oh."

Sirius looked at the ground.

"There are three occurrences in my life when I would have gladly gone to Azkaban for murder to avenge the friends I loved. The first was James and Lily. The second was Frank and Alice Longbottom. The third was Amy and Meg."

Hermione had never heard such anger and hurt in Sirius's voice before.

"What happened to them?" she asked, though she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know the answer.

He sighed.

"We all joined the Order after Hogwarts. Amy and Meg always worked together – as I said, they were like James and I, inseparable – and they went out on assignment. They got cornered by Dolohov and Bella." He swallowed hard. "From what we found out later, it looked like Bella and Dolohov joined together to put Meg under the Imperius Curse, and forced her to kill Amy. When she came out of it, her mind was so addled that she ended up…she ended up killing herself because of her guilt."

Hermione rubbed his back comfortingly as they continued in silence, cursing her inquisitive mind. She knew as well as the rest of them that dwelling on death did no one any good, and years between the actual occurrence and the very present memory didn't do anything to subdue the hurt. Hermione remembered the pain she felt when she had seen Dumbledore's lifeless body at the foot of the Astronomy Tower that fateful night. The hurt had only intensified after five years, so she could only imagine the pain Sirius went through with his memories.

"We're here," Sirius said after a few minutes, pointing to a large, slightly menacing-looking building in front of them.

They walked in, paying their entry fee and accepting a brochure from a bored-looking young desk clerk. They started for the stairwell, but Hermione, feeling the growing tension between them, grabbed Sirius's arm.

"I'm sorry I made you tell me what happened," she said, "It was insensitive of me and I…"

"No, stop," he said with a small smile. "These things happened, and they were horrible, but they serve as reminders that we never want them to happen again. I try to remember the good times I had to cancel out the bad, and we were having such a lovely time chatting about the good times that it was only natural you'd become curious. Don't worry, love. I'll be fine."

Smiling slightly, he took her hand again and they walked down the stairwell, Hermione flipping through the brochure.

"That's odd," she said, stopping him once more as she read through the parchment with a slight frown. "The artist is anonymous."

"Why is that odd?"

She shrugged.

"This exhibit's been going since the 1970s. I assumed they would have figured out who the artist was by now." She flicked through the brochure. "Especially since the artist stopped for two years – from 1979 to 1981 – and then produced two of his most famous works of art before disappearing again. That usually intrigues art historians, doesn't it?"

Sirius smiled.

"You'll find there aren't that many with as keen an intellectual curiosity as you, my dear."

Hermione frowned, still reading the brochure.

"This also says that there's some dispute over whether the 1981 paintings are actually the work of the original artist, as the style and composition are different." She looked at Sirius, who seemed to be growing more amused at her frustration. "How could there be a possibility of two artists and _still_ no one knows who they are?"

Sirius laughed.

"You _really_ don't like not having all the answers, don't you?" She pouted slightly and he shook his head with another chuckle. "Come on, love, this promises to be fascinating. It's an exhibit on the realism of _dark_ magic, based on historical occurrences. Surely you can put aside your small twinge of annoyance for a bit of a history lesson?"

She looked at him, her eyes suddenly warm and worried.

"Are you going to be okay with that? I mean, considering what we were just talking about…"

"I'll be fine. Trust me, I don't think there's anything here that I haven't seen in real life, depressing as that is."

Still somewhat wary, Hermione followed Sirius into the show room, finding herself immediately inundated with graphic images of dark curses being performed on people that looked so real in their anguish that a shiver passed down her spine. They were grotesque in their realism but so fascinating at the same time that she couldn't look away as she passed by pictures of people with boils, sores, and other disgusting consequences of dark magic.

"I…there's…there's something…I think there's familiarity to these," Sirius said slowly a few moments later when she joined him next to a landscape that would have been beautifully pastoral if it didn't depict a laughing wizard manipulating Fiendfyre across the golden fields of a country village, the Muggles in the painting silently screaming as they ran fruitlessly from the destruction.

"_This_ is familiar?" Hermione asked, horrified as they moved from painting to painting.

"Not the content," he assured, "Just…I feel like…I _know_ I've seen this artist's work before…"

He trailed off as they stopped in front of a painting of a transforming werewolf. But it wasn't the breaking bones, the sprouting fur, or the snarling snout that caught their attention. It was the pale, terrified face of a small boy in the background. His wide grey eyes were partially shielded by sandy-brown hair and his small, slim frame seemed frozen in absolute, nightmarish fear.

Hermione turned away quickly as the werewolf bore down on the boy who would one day become her former professor and lover.

Sirius, however, did not look away.

"My God," he whispered, his hand moving up toward the canvas and shaping the brush strokes with his fingers, "I know who the artist is."

He turned to Hermione, his face almost as pale as Remus's younger self.

"It's Regulus."

* * *

_*Le Gasp!* Another cliffhanger! I know, bring on the flames._

_Oh, and YES I KNOW REGULUS DIED IN 1979 -- there's a reason to the plot line so don't try and dazzle me with your HP knowledge because 9 times out of 10 I already know and it's part of the story._

_Also, for fellow authors -- I've had several people ask if they can re-post the "review rant" from my profile page (or re-word it). I am now giving official permission to anyone who wants to use it as an outline for their own rant -- feel free! I don't own it...I just think it. ;-)  
_

_Hope you liked the story!  
_


	25. Chapter 25: A Startling Revelation

**A/N:** _Sorry it took so long to update. For those of you who don't follow me on Twitter, I am working 3 jobs at the moment and while I enjoy it because the money is good, it's slightly frustrating because it doesn't give me an adequate enough time to write. Anyway, thanks for your patience._

_Also, there's a NEW POLL up on my profile, so check it out & vote! It's very important to me, because I'm doing some research & I need feedback!  
_

_This chapter is meant to inspire the "What the hell?!" reaction, but please trust me enough to know that I will try not to leave you in the dark for too long._

_Finally, to my wonderful beta, thank you so much for putting up with my neuroses & insecurities. I love you, Amy._

**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five: A Startling Revelation**

"I didn't cause too much trouble, running out like that, did I?" Sirius asked when Hermione approached him outside the gallery several minutes later. He was leaning against one of the building's marble pillars, looking out at the pouring rain that had suddenly appeared. Hermione thought it slightly convenient, considering how it matched their moods.

"No more than usual," Hermione tried to joke, managing a weak smile as she pulled her cloak around her tighter. The chill whipped around them and drew an involuntary shudder from her body.

Truth be told, the reason Hermione hadn't immediately joined Sirius once he had made his rapid exit was due to the fact that, in his haste to leave, he had bowled through a group of American tourists. Hermione had had to spend several minutes apologizing for his behaviour, all the while trying to convince one particularly unpleasant American witch not to sue any and everything in sight.

It had been one of the rare times that Hermione was grateful for her fame, as one well-placed assertion that Harry was not married _yet_ had the same unpleasant witch's demeanour changing completely. After a few autographs and a promise that she would "put in a good word" with Harry, Hermione was able to stumble out of the gallery in search of her husband.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning to her, and Hermione was suddenly taken with just how light his eyes were as they glistened with tears.

"Oh, don't worry about that silly nonsense," she admonished gently, trying to make her smile convincing. "Are _you_ going to be alright?"

He let out a ragged breath as he looked out into the rain.

"I carry so much guilt," he finally said heavily. "Once Harry told me what _really_ happened to Regulus, I…I just…" He heaved a shuddering sigh. "He haunts me, you know. We used to be so close when we were children. But then I went to Hogwarts and it all changed. He used to have such…such _dark_ thoughts. He was the very picture of the tortured artist, really. It scared me sometimes. And then I…I just pushed him away. James…and Remus…and even Peter for a time, became my new family." He choked down a sob. "Maybe if I had paid more attention to him…been more of a _brother_ to him…" He trailed off, a single tear escaping and sliding down his angled, aristocratic face.

Hermione looked at him, unsure of what to say – if there was even an appropriate thing _to_ say. Though she also found herself plagued with ghosts of her past actions, most of her regrets were still mercifully reparable. Her romantic faux pas – Oliver and Remus – and the subtle, but still present conflicts within her friendships with Harry and Ginny were miniscule by comparison to the pain Sirius seemed to try so hard to bury. But his hurt was not as easily locked away as Regulus's memory in the Black mausoleum, and Hermione didn't know how to respond to such deep anguish.

"It's not your fault," she said softly, placing a hand on his arm though she knew her words would not quell the feeling of culpability, "Really, Sirius. There were so many factors…"

"I just…I need to be alone right now," he said, running his hand over his face and wiping the tears from his eyes.

Hermione swallowed the lump of hurt that was threatening to catch in her throat as he pushed her away.

"Of course," she said, taking a step back from him with a supportive smile. "I…I suppose I'll see you back in the room, then?"

He shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

"Nowhere else to go, kitten," was all he said before pulling up the collar of his faded leather jacket and disappearing into the rain.

Hermione watched him disappear into the grey rain and let out a puff of air, leaning against the pillar Sirius had just vacated. She tried not to think about how she could still feel his body heat against the smooth stone. She felt oddly empty without him near, having spent the past week or so almost always in his presence.

The thought that a mere week had tethered her emotionally to him made her tense. It was completely ridiculous that she would feel so vulnerable on her own. She was sure her stomach's uncomfortable churning undoubtedly had something to do with the rich breakfast she had consumed earlier.

Pulling out her pack of cigarettes, Hermione placed one between her lips and lit it, trying to figure out her next move. Unlike Sirius, she had no compulsion to enter the unpleasant downpour but at the same time, the idea of going back into the exhibit by herself was somewhat daunting. She was by no means squeamish, but she still did not want to face those types of horrors alone.

"Miss Granger? I'm sorry…Mrs. Black?" a genteel voice said and Hermione turned to see Enrico de Medici walking over to her, his dark hair slicked back and his tall, lean body clothed in a pair of immaculately-pressed grey linen trousers and a white Oxford shirt, unbuttoned slightly at the neck to reveal a sprinkling of dark hair. Over this he sported a very elegant grey cloak that billowed majestically behind him. Hermione had to admit that the man was one of the most attractive she had met in a long time, but she oddly felt no compulsion to flirt or make herself attractive to him.

She reminded herself of the fidelity charms on her marriage vows and gave the approaching man a smile.

"Please, signore, call me Hermione," she said, blushing slightly as he swept down gracefully to kiss her hand.

"Then you must call me Enrico," he replied with a smile. Then he looked around. "And where is your charming husband?"

"He…he wasn't feeling too well so I sent him to bed," she said.

"Nothing too serious, I hope, if you'll forgive the pun. I have warned Lilia that her breakfasts can sometimes be a little too rich for…"

"Oh, no!" Hermione interrupted hurriedly, not wanting to get the kind little elf into any trouble. "I'm sure he's just…tired," she finished lamely.

Enrico gave a conspiratorial smirk.

"It is my experience that older men get tired a little more easily, do they not?"

His eyes sparkled as he gave her a wink and Hermione was suddenly overcome with a deep compulsion to giggle. Not in response to his wink, but in her realization as to _why_ she had never felt anything other than comfortable in the limited contact she had had with him. Meeting his knowing grin with a coy one of her own, she arched an eyebrow.

"I suppose we need to compare experiences one day. I'm sure yours are infinitely more tantalizing than mine."

"That's not what I hear, if the stories are to be believed," he teased, which she found oddly refreshing. "Forgive my impertinence, though, Hermione, but I was under the impression that you went for the more athletic type. Were you not dating the Puddlemere Keeper, Oliver Wood?"

She arched an eyebrow again and he had the good grace to blush.

"I only ask in…how do you say? _Envious_ interest," he added.

Hermione laughed.

"Oliver was a boy. And I needed a man," she said with a smirk.

Enrico grinned.

"I do admit to a little jealousy. Il Nero is…quite good-looking."

"Yes. Yes, he is," she replied, ecstatic that she had found an easy camaraderie with someone while so far from her own friends.

Then she sighed.

"So," she said, taking a drag of her cigarette. "What brings you here in such horrid weather?"

Enrico glanced at the building in front of them.

"I manage this gallery," he said. "It was my mother's job before she died. She had such a great appreciation for art, and I learned to love it through her. So I manage this gallery and help my father sometimes. He is stubborn and insists he doesn't need the help, but I know he gets lonely sometimes in the palazzo."

"I can imagine. I didn't realize your mother had passed away. Sirius led me to believe that she was still around."

Enrico shook his head.

"She was also great friends with your husband. I believe they had a small…how do you say? Fling?"

Hermione tensed as she felt the unfamiliar emotion of jealousy start to creep up her spine.

"Your mother…and Sirius?"

"Yes. Long ago, though, Hermione. When they were just out of school. Sirius introduced her to my father, you know. They were both free spirits at the time."

Hermione simply blinked, more concerned with the emotions she was starting to feel with the new piece of information. It was one thing to hear vaguely sordid stories from Sirius about his past paramours. It was quite another to hear about it from other, innocent third-parties. It didn't seem as vague or irrelevant that way.

"So," Enrico said, seemingly sensing her growing unease and moving to change the subject. "Papa said you and Sirius would be here so I came to offer myself as a guide. Perhaps I am too late?"

"No, not really," Hermione replied, smiling softly. "We had barely been inside for five minutes when Sirius…felt ill."

If Enrico knew that she was stretching the truth, he didn't comment as he simply nodded.

"Yes, it is not a very pleasant exhibit. Exquisite, but disturbing."

"Yes," she agreed, putting out her cigarette and drawing her cloak tighter in an effort to force her body to concentrate on something other than Sirius.

"But you must be freezing!" Enrico exclaimed, and before she could protest, he had pulled his cloak from his shoulders and wrapped it around hers. "Come. I'll show you around."

Hermione was about to give in to her protests, but realized that she really _was_ cold, and didn't have anywhere else to go except inside to finish the exhibit which seemed to hold a deeper level of interest now that she knew her deceased brother-in-law was one of the artists. Taking Enrico's proffered arm, they entered the building and she smiled slightly when the bored desk clerk straightened up immediately upon seeing Enrico.

"He is not very enthusiastic, but he does his job well enough," Enrico whispered in her ear as they made their way down the marble stairs. "Plus, he's not bad to look at, eh?"

Hermione gave a small chuckle.

They fell into a pleasant conversation about the art when they entered the gallery and Hermione was grateful to have a knowledgeable companion to talk to as they looked at the paintings. He was a fount of information on the composition and style and Hermione allowed the excited student within her ingest the new material with unwavering attention, realizing that, in spite of her own rigorous study into the cultural arts, there were some things that just couldn't be learned from a book.

She avoided the painting of the werewolf, a fact that Enrico had blissfully not questioned, and as they paused in front of a smaller room that attached to the larger exhibit, he turned to her with a worried, almost brotherly concern.

"This is what they call the Unforgivable gallery," he said, nodding to the slightly darker ante-chamber. "Three very graphic paintings are housed here, including the two most famous that might or might not have been completed by the original artist. They are quite horrific, and I just want to make sure that you are okay to go in."

Despite her misgivings, Hermione couldn't help but throw him a withering look. He knew as well as anyone else that, as a member of the illustrious Golden Trio, she had faced the Unforgivable curses in person. And while a part of her was wary, the Gryffindor side of her scoffed at the idea that some paint and canvas would compare to her experience.

As if reading her thoughts, Enrico steered Hermione wordlessly into the room.

Her first thought – rather superficially – was that the ambiance was spectacular. It was all dark and dimly lit, the wall sconces throwing eerily-dancing shadows all over the room. Her second thought, however, was decidedly less admiring and more drawn in morbid fascination to the first painting in front of her.

There were two witches in the painting, one lean and wirey – all muscle and sinew – with long ebony hair and cool, appraising ice-blue eyes. The other, slightly taller but plumper, had a round face and intelligent brown eyes that were covered by thick-rimmed glasses. They were backed into a wall but still seemed to work as one unit and as Hermione chanced a glance at the title of the piece, she felt a wave of nausea hit as she realized who the two witches in the painting were.

"This is the Imperius Curse," Enrico said softly from her side, their eyes riveted to the painting as a younger Bellatrix and Dolohov leered at the two trapped witches.

Hermione swallowed hard, horror overwhelming her as she saw the two Death Eaters raise their wands in perfect synchronicity and suddenly, a glazed, befuddled look appeared in the eyes of the bespectacled girl. As if moving a marionette, the maniacal pair willed Meg to raise her wand, pointing it at a now-stricken, pale-faced Amy. Hermione's heart ached as she saw a tear fall from an ice-blue eye in the second before she was struck by a flash of green light, a momentary hint of agony before life was snuffed from her and she collapsed in a heap on the ground. The look of utter pain and anguish on Meg's face when she finally realized what had happened shook Hermione to the core, and she had to will herself to watch the inevitable screaming and tears before the grief drove the girl to her knees, her wand before her as she spoke those two horrible words. There was a brief second of relief, then nothing as she collapsed next to her best friend.

"I sometimes fine myself crying when I watch that painting," Enrico's solemn voice penetrated the ringing in Hermione's ears. "You must have seen real horrors not to be taken to tears by that, Hermione."

Silently gulping large intakes of air, Hermione managed a nod.

"Yes," she said absently, moving to the next painting. "Real horrors."

A glance at the name of the next painting had a hot bubble of hate sear through her body. In front of her sat three people she knew in intimate detail, though two of whom she had never met in her life. The smiling, carefree face of her best friend's infant self, however, was unmistakable as he gurgled happily on his mother's knee, and for the first time, Hermione got a good look at Lily Evans Potter. Her dark, auburn hair and her dancing green eyes seemed so familiar – yet so foreign in the same moment. The adoring, tender smile she had for her son was not a look Hermione could even imagine on the face of a woman who seemed Lily's exact twin and was the only distinction that separated Lily from Selena.

Hermione's eyes floated to James Potter – the man Harry seemed to grow into more and more – and her heart tugged as she saw him lean down to place an affectionate kiss on his son's head.

Hermione couldn't help but physically wince when the door was blown open and a tall, hooded figure stepped into the room. At what seemed like a command from James, Lily – holding her son close to her body – dashed from the room as James stole around for his wand. He had barely curled his fingers around the piece of wood when a bright green light struck him. He gave an inaudible scream and fell to the ground, motionless. The hooded figure barely took a moment to look at his victim before leaving the room in pursuit of his next one.

Hermione frowned. It all seemed so quick – so clinical – in the precision of the assassination. It made her even more resentful of the squirming, two-faced, blissfully-dead Peter Pettigrew, and she was glad Harry was not around the witness the painting.

"It continues," Enrico whispered and Hermione moved, spellbound, to the next painting, watching as Lily tried fruitlessly to ward the door of Harry's room, cringing and holding the baby tighter when the wooden object was blasted off its hinges. Voldemort stood at the doorway and Lily, defiant, put Harry in his crib and turned to face her fate, determined to save her son.

But then something happened that Hermione did not anticipate.

Voldemort was talking. What he was saying, Hermione did not know, but Lily was speaking too. Having never been very good as a lip-reader, Hermione managed to decipher the words "never" and "willingly" from Lily's mouth before Voldemort was speaking again. Hermione couldn't see his face so she couldn't begin to know what he was saying, but she watched as Lily squared her shoulders, hot tears running down her face, but her lips remaining decidedly final:

"No."

Voldemort's wand was up now, but there was no evil green light jetting through the air towards Lily Potter. And yet she was hovering slightly, her body tense in excruciating pain, her head tipped back so her long auburn hair blew slightly in the residual breeze of the curse. Hermione's brow furrowed. Lily had been tortured? Glancing at the name of the piece, Hermione saw the words _Cruciatum Transdictum_ but the words meant nothing to her.

She looked back at the painting just as Lily's body hit the floor, but still no green light had issued from Voldemort's wand. The man himself circled Lily twice before turning to face Hermione. She instinctively took a step backwards, the man's evil seeming to translate even in paint. Swallowing again, she focused past him, fixating on the reflection of his back in the window the artist had painted behind him. He was tall and imposing, still hooded, and Hermione was beginning to wonder what he was doing just standing there looking at her until she realized something and her eyes widened.

He wasn't the only body in the reflection.

Two women, one Hermione recognized and one she didn't, were reflected in the glass. They were both looking at Voldemort – one solemn and supplicant while the other was clearly horrified by the scene in front of her. He was talking to them and as she watched their reflections take a step into the room, the painting reverted back to the beginning.

Hermione blinked. Her head was reeling. There had been witnesses at the Potters' attack? She was certain one of the women in the painting had to be the artist posing as Regulus, as Regulus had been dead for almost two years during the Potters' murder, and though she recognized one, she had no idea who the other was.

And how had Lily Evans Potter really died, if not by the killing curse? Had Voldemort discovered a new way of murdering people? And if so, why hadn't he used it during his second rise?

"I suppose it comes as no shock to you that the two paintings detailing the Potters' deaths were what made these paintings particularly famous," Enrico said, his hand on her shoulder as he registered her tense body language. He seemed ready to leave, trying to coax her out of the room, but she wouldn't budge.

"When was the last time these paintings were in England?" she asked.

Enrico frowned.

"Never. Everything in the adjourning gallery was shipped to Paris anonymously in 1976. The _Imperio_ painting followed in 1977, then nothing until 1981, when they were about to close the gallery in Paris. To my knowledge, these paintings have been touring Europe in underground art galleries for decades. I always assumed it was because they were banned in England."

Hermione was watching the painting again, going over every detail with a critical, intelligent eye. Nothing seemed out of place until Lily fell to the ground – unconscious, no doubt, after being hit with Voldemort's Cruciatus Curse – and lay there motionless as Voldemort circled her.

He seemed very precise in his movements, Hermione thought. One foot slowly in front of the other as he circled Lily twice – no more, no less.

"Enrico," Hermione said urgently when Voldemort turned toward her – and what she now assumed was the doorway – again, "Look at the reflection in the window behind Volde-- He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Do you see those two faces?"

Enrico's brow furrowed, but he took a step forward to look. He started visibly when the two women appeared and his face turned pale.

"_Impossibile_," he muttered in disbelief before looking at Hermione, "There were others there?"

Hermione nodded.

"I think so."

"But…" He turned and looked at the painting again, uncomprehending. "Who are they?"

"I only recognize one of them," she said softly, taking a step forward and tracing the air over the solemn face. "She was my wedding planner."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!_


	26. Chapter 26: Opening Up

**A/N:** Hallelujah, Amen, & Praise Merlin! We have an update!

I know, I know, it's been so long & I'm sure most of you have forgotten about the story by now. Which, I'm sure, will be motivation enough for you to take the time to re-read it? Maybe?

Anyway, I do appreciate you all for being ridiculously patient. A lot has happened since we last met, so a brief update: I have an HP FF website now. You can link to it from my profile. I have 4 authors featured, but I need more, so take a look, root around a bit, & if you're interested please feel free to contact me in any manner you'd like.

I also would encourage you to take a look at the Twin Exchange Forum & vote for **GrandeVanillaSkimLatte's** January Challenge fic. It's called **Tattooed Across Her Mind** & it's sensational. Yes, I'm campaigning for her, & yes, she's going to hate it. But a great story deserves a win & hers is very very good. :-)

Enough of me blabbering. Enjoy the update!

* * *

Thanks, Amy, for just being so uniquely you.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Opening Up**

It was dark by the time Hermione crept back into their room at the palazzo, her body making mild protestations of all the walking she had done. The lights of the city flickered quiet shadows off the water, casting an eerie glow around the dark room that did nothing to improve her overworked imagination. Her mind was reeling, however, and she had little time to dwell on the dancing spirits of aquatic reflections as the very real spirits of a past she didn't fully understand regained ahold over her thoughts as they had done for the past few hours.

When she and Enrico had finally exited the gallery, the rain had slowed just to a light drizzle. The weather was, of course, far from Hermione's worries as Enrico asked question after question that she was not really prepared to answer as her mind churned with question after question of her own. Though curious, it wasn't long before Enrico recognized that Hermione was as overwhelmed – if not more so – than he was with the new information they had received, and he finally gave in as his questions remained infuriatingly unanswered.

They walked together for a bit in silence, gazing unseeingly at the canals beside them. Hermione was grateful for the company, instinctively knowing that Enrico could be trusted implicitly. Even when – after an hour of walking together in silent contemplation – he gently intimated that he needed to get back to the gallery to do some work, Hermione trusted him not to say anything without actually having to remind him of that fact.

"It's been a long day," he had said. "Why don't you go back to your husband? I'm sure he's waiting for you."

"I'm sure he isn't," she had replied with a small smile. "But I'll see you later."

She had roamed Venice on her own then, her brain unable to fathom Alexandra's presence at the Potters', or the woman who was so foreign and yet seemed so familiar at the same time. And then there was Lily Potter – not immediately killed like previously thought but unconscious – with Voldemort circling her in a manner that wasn't particularly predatory and yet not wholly unguarded.

Hermione had barely noticed the time fly by, and it wasn't until it had gotten dark that she realized she had strayed further than she had intended. It had taken her almost an hour to get back to the gallery, and a glance up at the second-floor offices told her that Enrico had, in fact, returned to do some work. Smiling to herself in praise of her faultless intuition, Hermione headed back to the palazzo for a hot shower and a glass of chianti.

She had barely closed the door to the suite when she heard something of a pitiful whimper come from the bedroom. Whipping around with her wand at the ready, her brain immediately switched to battle mode, her muscles tense in the familiar anticipation of attack. She had assumed Sirius would be out – sulking and moping as he was wan to do whilst in a mood – but from the moonlit outline of the shifting, flailing body on the bed, she knew immediately that he had come straight back to the room for some peace, quiet, and firewhisky.

Letting her muscles relax as she realized that they were not in any immediate danger, Hermione rushed to her husband's side, crawling up on the bed and laying a cool hand on his shoulder. His skin was clammy, slicked with sweat and tense with unknown anxiety. She didn't have much time to contemplate this state, however, as he sat bolt upright, grabbing her wrist and pulling it behind her back as he twisted – his grey eyes wide and wild – to look at her.

"Sirius, it's okay. It's just me," Hermione said soothingly, though her voice belied the pain she was feeling as his grip tightened on her straining arm.

"Prove it. What was the colour of your wedding night lingerie?"

Hermione tried to push the bubble of amusement that threatened to escape at the fact that his question was just so uniquely _him_, and looked him square in the eye with as straight a face as she could muster.

"I was wearing black and red, Sirius, though it's a wonder you remember considering the short amount of time it took for you to tear it off of me."

His lip twitched upward and his grip loosened, allowing her to sit back on her heels and rub her bruised skin. Sighing, he ran his hand through his dishevelled ebony locks, his bare torso cutting an impressive shadow against the wall.

"Sorry you had to see that," he said after a moment, refusing to meet her questioning gaze.

She tilted her head to the side in confusion.

"See what?"

"Me. Like this. Vulnerable."

She gave him a bemused smile.

"You were having nightmares, Sirius. We all have them from time to time."

He sighed, looking out the window.

"Yes, I suppose we do."

She watched him for a minute, her eyes tracing the aristocratic features and the long, lean lines of his body. She bit her lip as she felt her body react to the way those delicious jeans of his sat on his slim hips, his arse looking positively delicious beneath the dark blue denim. But her lust was replaced by concern when her eyes drifted back to his face to catch the dark circles under his eyes and the pale complexion of his skin.

"Sirius, please," she said, taking his hand gingerly in hers. "Please talk to me."

He looked over at her, seeming surprised by her presence, as if in those few moments of silence he had forgotten that she was there at all.

Hermione didn't want to admit that it stung a bit to be so easily dismissed.

"I…it's very complicated, Hermione," he replied, closing his eyes and laying back on the bed, flinging his free hand over his eyes. "And I'm a little too tired to explain it."

"Oh," she said, reigning in her indignation at being treated like an idiot. She knew he didn't mean it that way, and she knew that she needed to give him some space, considering the day he had just had.

They day they had both had, really.

"It's not that you're stupid," he said, peeking out from under his heavily-tattooed arm to look at her and noticing her withdrawn face. "I can barely explain it to myself sometimes."

"Does it have to do with Regulus?" she asked tentatively.

He paused, blinking up at her, before sighing.

"Yes and no."

"Oh."

There was another moment of silence before he took a deep breath.

"What do you know about Dementors, Hermione?"

She frowned, her forehead scrunching slightly in concentration.

"Well…I know that they consume happiness, and leave you with feelings of sadness and despair. I know that if they suck out your soul, it's a fate worse than death."

He nodded.

"What do you know about…about the psychological ramifications of someone who has spent a lot of time around Dementors?" he asked.

"Well…I assume there's an element of madness to them. Being made to relive horror after horror after horror…it's brutal."

Sirius sighed again, forgoing his initial attempt at relaxation as he flipped onto his side to face her, his head propped up by his elbow.

"I suppose you think that there isn't anything worse than being made to relive your worst experiences over and over again," he said. "But unfortunately, there is."

She turned to her side to face him, stretching her legs out so they were lying parallel, facing each other.

"While excruciating, there can be some…comfort…in reliving those experiences."

Hermione frowned.

"Comfort?"

"Well, yes. I mean, you wish you were dead most of the time, but the comfort is knowing that no matter what, the outcome of the memory is never going to change. Dementors can make you relive the experience, but they can't change the outcome, which is good. Now, one would normally say, why is that good, wouldn't you _want_ to change the outcome, but what I mean is that they cannot change the outcome for the _worse_."

Hermione listened, watching as Sirius picked at an imaginary piece of lint on the bed clothes.

"The Dementors feed off of fear – this is true – but they cannot manufacture fear. They cannot conjure things that you're afraid of and insert them into your psyche. It has to be there already, in a memory or a feeling. Their presence is, in fact, a filter. So anything that your own imagination can create, or fabricate, gets pushed to the back of your mind. It cannot be accessed. But it's still there, and over time, it's like a dam. The creativity and imagination keeps creating and imagining but there's nowhere for it to go. So it stays locked until you have control of your mind again.

"When I broke out of Azkaban, I was an absolute wreck. You remember how I was when you found me almost a year later? Imagine that, but one hundred times worse. My imagination and my reality were skewed. I didn't know what was real and what wasn't and not having that type of control…well…lesser men have gone completely mental.

"When I was in the Veil, it was just…silence. Just me and my own head. For awhile I honestly thought I would go mad. I was alone with my memories but not only that, I was alone with my memories and my own creativity to make those memories one thousand times worse than their original experience. But in that silence I worked at it. Nothing else to do, really. Do you know how utterly terrifying it is to be locked in your own mind for two years?"

Hermione was watching, riveted, at the fierce, pained, desperate look his face had taken on. She couldn't even begin to imagine what he had gone through, but she wasn't about to set her own, admittedly-overactive imagination to work at thinking about it.

"But you got out," she finally said. "You got out and you were infinitely better than when you went in…I mean…"

"It worked well," he interrupted, smiling slightly as he looked into her eyes for the first time all night. "My effort, I mean. I have absolute and complete control while conscious. I don't have to drink to drown my own mind from itself. I can walk, talk, and function like a human being with little to no side effect unless it's of my choosing, like pretending to have little moral structure."

"Yeah, I'm fairly certain you don't need to pretend on that one," she said wryly.

He chuckled slightly.

"No, I suppose my actions haven't given you any indication that it exists," he said before giving her a sad smile. "But it does. Sometimes."

She looked into his eyes, watching them cloud as he once again became lost in his own thoughts.

"You said you have complete control while conscious," she pressed. "I assume this isn't the case while _un_conscious?"

"No," he said simply. "I don't seem to have any control over my subconscious. It's like…in the twelve years it was being subdued by the Dementors, it got stronger. It simply…refuses to be controlled…most of the time," he added. "My dreams…well, they're what happen when all those horrible memories meet my overdeveloped imagination. Everything goes from bad to worse, the experience changes to something infinitely darker, and it's hard to tell what's real and what isn't."

They lay in silence once more, Hermione listening to the water lap against the stone walls of the canal below. Once again, she didn't even want to fathom the type of terror he experienced in his dreams.

"Anyway," he finally said, giving her a small half-smile. "Seeing Regulus's work today must have set me off. I haven't had a nightmare that bad in a long time."

"You said it refuses to be controlled most of the time," she said. "Are there special circumstances under which it's less of an issue?"

He gave a small smile, looking down at the bed.

"Yes," he admitted. "When you're with me, they're barely there."

The silence in the room was almost stifling for the few seconds it took for Hermione to digest his words. She had never thought about it before, but she realized that her own nightmares – laughably innocent by comparison to his, she was sure – also seemed less threatening when she was around him. In fact, aside from the fact that they had been up most of the night either fighting or having sex, she had had an extremely restful sleep.

And since he had been out like the dead while in bed together, she assumed he had too.

"Say something, please," he said after she hadn't spoken for awhile. "I know it's a little…intense, I guess…but that doesn't mean…"

Hermione didn't let him finish as she did the only thing that seemed to make sense after the day she had had: she kissed him.

It was deep and hard and passionate, their mouths moving and tongues duelling as she put all of her confusion, all of her insecurity, and all of her mixed up, pent-up, crazy emotions into the one thing that she knew could make her forget.

If only for a moment.

She pulled back as quickly as she had come, looking at him as she put her hand to her lips, her head buzzing slightly but her ever-present, infuriating practicality screaming at her. Sirius was frozen, his lips still slightly pursed as he surveyed her carefully. Her heart was beating faster than she had ever felt it before in her life, and for the first time, she ignored the loud, screaming voice of reason and pressed her lips to his again.

Sirius took the opportunity to pull her onto his lap, sitting up so he could tangle his hands into her damp hair and hold her to him. He wasn't entirely sure what was happening – or even that it was a smart thing to do considering everything that had happened to them that day – but his body would not listen to the niggling doubts as the overwhelming taste of her raced through his blood. He had his drug again, and he'd be damned if she took it away from him.

"You're all wet," he whispered, his lips ghosting over her neck as she arched her back, his warm fingers seeking a path up her shirt and finding it wet from the rain, goose bumps forming under his touch.

"It was raining," she replied, pulling the shirt off and throwing it to the side, her eyes closing as his hands left paths of fire along her flesh.

"Why were you outside in the rain?"

"Because you left me alone."

He tilted her head, looking into her eyes and seeing that same vulnerability he had only caught once or twice. It was the look she tried so desperately to hide from the rest of the world but he saw right through it. And at that moment, as she looked deep into his eyes, he knew she wasn't trying to hide it from him.

"I've seen you without your clothes on," he whispered. "Never thought I'd see you naked."

"Don't get used to it," she warned before catching his lips again and he was lost once more in her.

Their hands made quick work of their remaining clothes, feeling her skin against his as he leaned back against the headboard. Her lips barely left his, giving as good as she got as her hands raked through his hair, settling on his shoulders once they were both naked and panting against each other.

"Sirius," she whispered, running her hand gently through his hair. "Make love to me."

He nodded, and she slid atop his aching arousal, throwing her head back as she took him into her willing body. Sirius let out a hiss of breath as he became one with her once more, his skin still inflamed by the feeling of being inside her.

Four times. Four times he had slept with this woman and each time seemed more incredible than the last. She moved slowly, rocking her hips back and forth as she looked into his eyes, her nails gripping at the strands of silky black hair as her fingers curled around his neck. He watched her, mesmerized by the soft sparkle of the hazel orbs he was gazing into. He didn't know what had brought on the sudden change – the need to connect for the first time with him – but he definitely was not complaining. As she arched her back, her movements becoming more erratic, he thanked whatever deity was listening that she had opened up to him.

"Hermione," he whispered, his eyes still locked on hers. "I think I…"

"Don't," she said, moving her finger to his lips as a drop of perspiration slid down the side of her face. "Don't say anything."

He frowned slightly, pulling back and looking at her.

"Hermione, why don't you want to hear that I…"

"Stop," she begged, her movements paused but her breathing still shallow. "Please don't."

"You don't even know what I'm going to say."

"I don't care. I don't want to hear anything except the sound of my name falling from your lips as you cum."

Sirius's stomach did a slight somersault at the erotic honesty of her confession, though his heart still ached at the idea that she did not want to hear what he was suddenly so desperately ready to tell her.

But the soft fluttering that surrounded his cock overloaded any thinking he was doing as she slowly started to rock against him again.

"Sirius…" she breathed, throwing her head back as her hips moved faster. Sirius swallowed hard, the sight of her coming undone still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"Cum for me," he whispered in her ear, nipping her earlobe as his fingers slid up her ribcage and plucked lightly at her nipples. Her grip on his head tightened, and she pulled him down for a searing kiss as her walls clenched around him, signalling her orgasm and drawing him dangerously close to the edge.

"Hermione…" he groaned as he succumbed to the pleasure, holding her body close to his as he buried his face in her neck, his cry muffled by her curls.

They sat there, holding each other for a few moments, before Hermione pulled back and looked into his eyes. Immediately, Sirius felt the wall build again.

"I…I think I'm going to take a shower," she said, starting to move.

But he was done with it. He had spent the past twenty-four hours going through a carousel of emotions and he was done with the games. Gripping the back of her head, he pulled her down and kissed her as if he had nothing left in the world to lose. And in his heart he felt like he didn't. That day had made him feel old, vulnerable, and alone. She had entered his life by accident, but he would be damned if he allowed her to leave it again, whether emotionally or otherwise.

"Tell me you don't feel anything when we kiss like that," he said when they pulled apart panting. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't feel as though you have liquid electricity racing through your veins every time our lips meet."

She was panting, breathing heavily, but after a moment she took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye.

"It's just sex, Sirius," she whispered before sliding off him and going to the bathroom.

"Right," he said as he felt his heart ache. "Just sex."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Reviews are always welcomed!_


	27. Chapter 27: A New Arrangement

**A/N: **No excuses. It's been a terribly long time. I'm sorry.

For those of you who don't follow me on Twitter...here's an update: I'm working three jobs, apartment hunting, and trying to find the motivation to open my Microsoft Word program, let alone write. This makes updates a little difficult, but I suppose it's something everyone goes through at some point or another. Anyway, sorry that updates haven't been coming as quickly as they used to, but that's the way the cookie crumbles at the moment.

Thanks, Amy. Once again, you're awesome.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: A New Arrangement**

Hermione opened the glass door amidst a cloud of steam, her body flushed from the long, hot shower. She carefully sidestepped one of the clear pools on the marble floor, the fleeting thought of how impractical marble was in bathrooms briefly entertained in her mind as she tread to the sink on her tiptoes. Reaching the smooth stone slab without incident, she wiped off the built condensation, taking a long look at herself before heaving a heavy sigh and bowing her head in thought.

For the first time in her life, however, Hermione Granger's brain had shut off, and the only thing she could concentrate on was how much her heart had ached when she saw the look of desperate pleading on Sirius's face just before she had said those two insincere words.

Just sex.

Even now, they still left a bitter taste in her mouth. She knew as well as he did that things between them had progressed very quickly since they had added sex to their already-complex equation. It could never be as simple as purely physical and yet she couldn't bring herself to admit to the complicated emotions that seemed to be making themselves quite comfortable within her conscious _and_ unconscious minds.

So she did what she usually did in highly-charged emotional situations: she deflected, and ran away.

Trouble was, considering the situation, there was no way Hermione could actually run away from the issue. They were married, and _very_ closely monitored, so whether she liked it or not, they had to spend time together. Which meant they had to be relaxed and comfortable around each other.

Which meant they couldn't average three major emotional collisions a day.

Deciding that the issues of her marriage could be dealt with after a good night's sleep and a clearer head, Hermione wrapped her towel tighter around her body and prepared herself to continue deflecting until she had a firmer grasp of the situation.

Walking out into the bedroom, she found Sirius standing at the double French doors, looking out at the rain that was still falling steadily in the Venetian night. His gloriously bare body – unashamed of his masculine nakedness – was dimmed in the moonlight, the shadow of dark ink just visible. She couldn't help the shudder that went through her body at the sight of him – immediately seduced by the sheer, raw sexuality of him – and she admitted to herself that there were definite perks to being married to such a man.

"Good shower?" he asked as she padded over to her suitcase, digging around in determination to find an outfit that didn't intentionally or unintentionally scream for him to ravish her.

"Yes," she replied. "Most…reviving."

He turned to face her, and she quickly averted her eyes as her treacherous gaze zeroed in on the one place she didn't really want to draw attention to.

"I think we need to talk," he said bluntly, without segue.

She sighed.

"Not now, Sirius. I'm tired."

"As am I, kitten, but the quicker we work this out, the quicker we can move forward with this…marriage."

He almost spat out the word, as though it left an unsavoury taste on his tongue.

Hermione sighed again.

"If we're going to talk, can you please put some clothes on?" she asked, pulling on her own oversized t-shirt and warm, flannel pyjama pants.

She heard the rustling of clothes behind her but when she turned to face him again, she found he had simply slipped on a pair of boxers.

'_So much for deflecting,'_ she thought.

"Right," Sirius said, the businesslike tone of his voice so out-of-place in their current situation. "I was having a think, while you were in the shower, and I think we should talk about what's been happening between us."

She nodded but remained silent, waiting to hear what he had to say.

"Barring the very real possibility that you've found a way to reverse our fidelity charms, it's come to my attention that our expectations of this…arrangement…seem to have changed. If the past few days have been any indication, I'm getting the feeling that your emotions toward me have not developed beyond your usual 'friends-with-benefits' thing. So, before we get to entrenched in that aspect, I suppose my first question is the obvious: Have you found a way to reverse the fidelity charm?"

Hermione blinked.

"No," she said, still trying to wrap her head around the huge personality shift Sirius seemed to have undergone. It would have been laughable, watching him pace in naught but his underwear with a tone better-fitted to composing a company memo, had the subject matter not been decidedly solemn. As it happened, Hermione was getting the distinct impression that she was not going to like the direction the conversation was going.

He seemed to expect the negative affirmation, thought whether Hermione was relived by his expectation or insulted that he had such little faith in her magical prowess, she was unsure. To his credit, it hadn't been until he had brought it up that she had even considered using her not-inconsiderable skills to reverse their bonds. It was impossible, of course. The marriage was under such close scrutiny as it was that Hermione couldn't even attempt it if she wanted to.

It was the fact that she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to that made her balk slightly.

Sirius was talking again.

"…think it's probably for the best."

Hermione blinked again.

"Sorry? I…I missed what you said."

Sirius gave her a slightly exasperated look.

"I think we need to go back to your original idea of no sex at all."

She continued to stare at him, only partially comprehending the decidedly-uncharacteristic behaviour of her husband. He seemed to grasp her confusion, because he paused in his pacing and heaved a sigh.

"Everything's just happening so fast and I don't think we truly thought through the consequences of our actions."

"We're not going to get pregnant, if that's what you're worried about," she said. "Ginny and Emily packed enough contraceptive potion to sink a battleship."

He gave a slight chuckle, but the mirth didn't reach his eyes.

"That…while a relief, of course…wasn't what I meant."

Then Hermione understood. The pacing; the businesslike, almost practiced way he was speaking; even the way he hadn't been able to look her in the eye as he spoke. She remembered seeing it all before.

"Sirius," she said softly. "Are you…do you have feelings for me?"

His calm façade faltered and he couldn't meet her suddenly hawkish gaze. Hermione almost reeled from his silence. She expected a rapid denial, maybe even some quick backpedalling. She even mildly expected him to laugh in her face, call her a silly cow, and announce that he was simply sick of having sex with her.

But silent admission? _That_ was a complete surprise.

Well, maybe not a _complete_ surprise.

Suddenly, all of his looks – from steady stare-downs to heady desire – flew through her mind. And to her surprise and relief, there was a bubble of elation in the knowledge that he was fighting the same terrifying emotions she was.

Then he spoke.

"I'm not sure."

She frowned slightly.

"You're…not sure?"

He looked down.

"What I'm feeling…it isn't exactly…_normal_ for me, Hermione."

She could empathize with that.

"I just…I suppose I need to make sure that what I'm feeling isn't just connected to the fact that I'm…_ludicrously_ addicted to you sexually."

An involuntary shiver of desire passed through her as she saw his eyes darken, their gaze travelling slowly up her body, undressing her with his penetrating steel until they met hers.

"Like when you look at me like that," he whispered softly, almost as if to himself. "Everything around me just disappears and all that's left is your beautiful eyes."

Her heart gave a little flutter at his words, but as quickly as the tenderness had appeared on his face, it disappeared again with an almost disgusted toss of his head.

"Anyway," he said, once again assuming a businesslike tone and avoiding her eyes. "I think it might be best if we play it cool for a little bit. Just until I work out just what everything means."

She looked up at him, her snoozing brain allowing her heart to ask the question she was starting to fear the answer to.

"And…what will happen if you figure out that…that it's not just the sex?"

He looked at her again; his eyes steady as he gave a soft, sad smile.

"I don't know."

They looked at each other for a long minute, Hermione's heart thrumming madly against her chest as it demanded she say the three words she had sworn she would never say. Three words she wasn't even sure she was capable of saying – not with any level of sincerity, at least. But it was getting too easy to imagine herself saying them.

Easy and terrifying.

Then he gave another deep sigh, full of pent-up frustration, and turned away from her again.

"It's just this honeymoon, you know?" he said, once more looking out into the rain. "I mean…there's only so much one can do in Venice when you're living a sexless existence."

Swallowing the words that had come so close to bursting from her lips, Hermione decided – in her drowsy, emotionally-unstable, nearly-brainless state – that his frustration was as good a segue as she was going to get into her retelling of the events of the afternoon.

"I think I…that is, Enrico and I…discovered something today that could be a good distraction for the next few days," she said, before proceeding to tell him what she had seen in the Unforgiveable gallery.

Sirius was pacing again when she finished describing the paintings.

"It makes no sense," he said. "Regulus was dead before James and Lily were killed."

"What year did Amy and Meg die?"

"The same year we all got out of Hogwarts. 1978."

"Enrico said that everything in that main gallery was sent to Paris on 1977, and that the Imperius Curse painting followed in 1978. Then nothing until 1981. Regulus was dead by then so which one of the women was it?" Hermione thought aloud.

"You said Alexandra was in it?"

"Yes. She and another woman. God, she looked so familiar, and yet…" Hermione trailed off, suddenly realizing who the third person was.

But it couldn't have been. There was an actual humanity to her – a disbelief in the actions her beloved Dark Lord had committed.

"It was Selena," she said, and Sirius looked up at her in surprise. "It was Selena Selwyn. I'd bet my life on it."

"But…it couldn't be," Sirius said with a shake of his head. "Selena…she was rubbish. Not someone that Voldemort would consider letting into his inner circle. I mean, she's a pureblood but when we were at school…I mean, she had no talent. Lily ran rings around her. They had a rivalry that was absolutely one-sided."

"Sirius, I might have only spent five minutes with the woman, but there was definitely nothing rubbish about her. She's an extremely powerful witch."

They were both pacing now, the discomfort of their earlier conversation almost gone completely as they focused their energy on the conundrum at hand. Hermione was happy to have someone to share the burden, especially someone who understood the level of significance and could help her work through the details.

"Something's not adding up," Sirius said, sitting on the bed and rubbing his face. "We'll go back and have a better look tomorrow."

"Why not now?" Hermione asked, glancing at her watch. "It's not late. Enrico might still be there. We could have a look and—"

Sirius chuckled.

"I admire your pluck, love, but my head is starting to ache. Tomorrow. The painting's not going anywhere."

The idea of sleep made her yawn, and she gave a light chuckle.

"Yeah, I suppose I'm getting tired too," she admitted. Then she let out an awkward cough. "So…should I sleep on the couch?"

"Why?" he asked before realizing. Then he chuckled again. "Trust me, kitten, I couldn't even if I wanted to. But for future reference, I do actually possess _some_ self-control."

"I didn't think you…"

"Yes you did. It's okay, I'm sure you're not the only one. But I'm perfectly safe. Especially tonight. Shagging three times in a day is about my limit when it comes to heavily-charged emotions."

She smiled slightly and after a second of hesitation, decided to bite the bullet and crawled into bed.

Sirius promptly wedged three pillows between them.

"Just in case," he said in reply to her arched eyebrow. "I'm safe, but precautions should be taken nonetheless."

Shaking her head with an exhausted laugh, Hermione allowed herself to lay back, her eyes almost immediately closing the moment her head his the pillow as the exhaustion and the excitement of the past forty-eight hours finally caught up with her.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it._


	28. Chapter 28: A Piece to the Puzzle

**A/N:** I want to thank everyone for their patience, & know that I am typing up the next chapter so hopefully another update will be coming in the next week or so.

I would like to apologize to anyone who speaks Italian. Google Language Tools is a great thing but sometimes they get it a bit wrong. I apologize if that's the case.

Also - want to thank the Doctor Who franchise for giving me the inspiration for the potion mentioned within this chapter. It will play a pretty big role next chapter. :-)

Aaaaand...since my darling beta has been super-duper busy w/real life, I dedicate this to HER! I LOVE YOU, AMY!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: A Piece to the Puzzle**

"What the hell?" Sirius murmured the next morning as they rounded the corner to see several police cars surrounding the gallery and police tape up around the building.

"No…" Hermione gasped, breaking away from Sirius and rushing towards the barricade.

"Mi dispiace, signorina, ma non è possibile passare," a policeman said, stepping in front of her as she tried to pass by.

"The hell I can't! Move!" she barked, her eyes blazing.

"Va tutto bene. Sono investigatori della polizia di Inghilterra," a familiar voice said and Hermione immediately relaxed as Enrico came striding over to them.

"Ma signore…"

"Basta così. Sono con me. Farli passare."

The policeman heaved a deep sigh and moved the barricade back, allowing the two to pass.

"He's told them we're detectives from England," Sirius translated softly in Hermione's ear. "He's vouched for us."

"Why are there Muggle policemen in the first place? I thought the gallery was a wizarding gallery?" she asked Enrico as he waited for them to approach.

"The downstairs is. The upstairs is a collection of Renaissance Venetian art. Quite a large collection, actually. Quite popular," he replied, starting to walk back toward the building and allowing them to fall in stride with him.

When they both looked at him in surprise at this revelation, he gave a shrug.

"We had to make money somehow. There isn't too much business for wizard art in a Muggle city. Most of my profits come from the inanimate pieces of canvas upstairs. Not that I'm diminishing them," he added quickly when he saw the look of protest on Hermione's face. "I think they're beautiful. Unfortunately," he gestured towards the law enforcement circus around them. "It has its problems."

"What happened?" Sirius asked as they entered the building.

"Some bumbling buffoon set off the Muggle alarm system on his way to steal something from the downstairs gallery," Enrico replied, a hint of disgust in his tone at the perceived ineptness of the criminal.

Hermione frowned.

"Someone stole from the wizard gallery?"

Enrico nodded.

"Yes. They stole the paintings hanging in the Unforgivable wing. Of course, I've told the Muggles it was an attempted theft, but they insisted on this whole bloody carnival."

Both Sirius and Hermione froze in place, and Enrico turned after a few steps when he realized they weren't walking with him.

"The paintings in the Unforgiveable wing?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Enrico replied calmly.

"All of them?"

"No, just two."

Fear hit Hermione's stomach.

"Which…which two?" she asked shakily.

Enrico smiled gently.

"Why don't you two come up to my office?" he said, though the look in his eyes belied his tender tone.

"You two go to the office. I'll go down to the gallery. Maybe there are clues…" Hermione started but was interrupted by Enrico.

"Signora Black," he said politely, but firm. "Please, let's all go up to the office where I can explain a few things. In private." His eyes flickered to the army of police trooping in and out, passing the three as they made their way through the enclaves, collecting phantom evidence of an art thief who seemed to have turned his back on the millions of euro he could have made from fencing just one of the priceless paintings.

Offering his elbow to Hermione, Enrico glanced at Sirius, informing both of them that there was a method to his practiced calm. Deciding to remain silent – at least for the moment – Hermione and Sirius followed the young man up the large marble stairs to the curator's office.

Once the door was closed, however, both pulled out their wands and aimed them at Enrico.

"We want the truth. Now," Sirius said darkly.

Enrico, whose back had been turned, glanced back at them and sighed.

"For heaven's sake, put those away," he said, though his tone was more exasperated than fearful.

"I trusted you to keep that information to yourself and now someone's stolen the Unforgiveable paintings. You expect me to believe that's _coincidence_?" Hermione asked forcefully.

"Who are you working for?" Sirius added.

"Excuse me, but nobody's stolen the Unforgiveable paintings," Enrico clarified, calmly sinking into his plush leather desk chair.

"Don't play games, mate," Sirius snarled. "You said…"

"I _said_," Enrico interrupted, "That the paintings in the Unforgiveable gallery were stolen. I did _not_ say the Unforgiveable _paintings_ were stolen."

"What the bloody hell's the difference?" Sirius snapped, but Hermione slowly lowered her wand, a small smile appearing on her face as the tension left her body.

"You crafty man," she said, stowing her wand and ignoring Sirius's bewildered look. "You switched them."

Enrico bowed from the neck.

"Guilty as charged, signora," he said.

"But, if he…oh, the paintings _in_ the Unforgiveable wing…" Sirius murmured, stowing his own wand.

"How did you know?" Hermione asked as she and Sirius sat down in the chairs across from Enrico's desk.

"How did I know someone was going to try to steal the paintings?" he asked, pulling a bottle of firewhisky and three glasses from a drawer in his desk. "That's actually a bit of a complicated answer that I think would be best answered after a drink."

Hermione chuckled.

"Enrico, it's not even noon."

He met her eyes.

"Pretend," he replied simply.

Chuckling with a bemused smile, Hermione accepted her glass and toasted silently with him before taking a sip. Sirius downed his drink without question and sat comfortably back in the seat.

"Before the long and complicated answer, how about a shorter answer to an easier question?" he asked. "Namely, where are the paintings if not in the possession of our unknown thief?"

"Here, of course," Enrico answered, as if it was obvious. With a wave of his hand, the beautiful medieval tapestries on the walls transformed into the two paintings.

"What paintings were hanging in the Unforgiveable gallery if not these two?" Hermione asked, avoiding looking at the paintings as she took another small sip of firewhisky.

"Copies. Everything's the same up until the end. No talking. No one else in the reflection. Just…well…as the story goes. They're good, if I do say so myself, but careless. I had so little time, you see."

"You paint?" Hermione couldn't help herself asking.

Enrico chuckled.

"You know the old saying, those who can't do, teach?" She nodded. "Those who couldn't become artists became curators."

Sirius frowned.

"But how did you know that they needed to be replaced in the first place?" he pressed.

Enrico looked at their questioning faces, and took a deep breath.

"I'm sure you know by now that you're being watched by the English Ministry of Magic." The two nodded. He inhaled again. "The person assigned as your shadow here in Venice…is me."

"What?" Sirius roared, jumping to his feet. "After all your father did for you in the war…"

"Sirius," Hermione said softly, putting her hand on his forearm. "Please sit. I'm sure there's more to it than just that."

"There is," Enrico assured, throwing Hermione a grateful smile. "The truth is, I had been working with the Order for several years now – the eastern alliance, led by Viktor and the few of us from Durmstrang who rebelled against the Dark Lord. But then Kingsley wanted a representative of the eastern alliance in close contact with the Ministry, because I would have more luck infiltrating. With my pureblood heritage and my education at Durmstrang, the Ministry accepted and trusted me immediately."

"So…you're with us?" Sirius clarified.

"Yes," Enrico replied. "But soon after I joined the Ministry, I was put into a very difficult position. Recently…maybe three months ago…I was inducted into what they call the Master's Club."

Sirius's body tensed, but Hermione – who hadn't heard of such a club – looked puzzled.

"What exactly _is_ the Master's Club?" she asked.

"It started out as a social club," Sirius answered, a bitter tone to his words. "Very elite, based in London. You've heard of White's, or Boodle's?" Hermione nodded. "Think of it as the wizard's version. It used to be a mark of class, throwing fetes and galas, but over the past century it turned into a group of blood-purity-crazed millionaires plotting against any and every movement toward freedom and equality. My parents were members. And if it gives you a better idea, Lucius Malfoy has been chairman for the past six years."

Hermione frowned.

"But if there's a club…a _known_ club…filled with Death Eaters or Voldemort sympathizers, then why…"

"Why hasn't the Ministry done anything about it?" Enrico asked for her. "Because, officially, the club disbanded after the first war. Officially, the Order's not meant to exist as well."

"How did you even get invited into the Master's Club?" Sirius asked.

Enrico blushed slightly.

"I'm not proud of this," he prefaced. "But I drafted several…er…unsavoury amendments to the Marriage Law."

Sirius's eyes narrowed again, but Hermione once more put her hand on his forearm. He glared at her hand, but kept his mouth shut.

"You still haven't explained how you knew about the paintings," she said softly.

"Oh! Yes. Well, naturally, when I was tapped to join the Club I went to the Order. And they, of course, told me to infiltrate. I was an initiate for the first few months – just a paperhanger, really – an errand boy between the Club and the Ministry. I met people socially – there's no record of membership, you see – and then I was shown the headquarters. They made me take an Unbreakable Vow of Secrecy, of course, so I cannot actually tell anyone where it is – though I'm sure it's changed by now."

He paused, taking a sip of his drink, before continuing.

"When you two became engaged, the whole tone of the club changed. There was movement – rapid movement – amongst the higher-ranking members. There was talk of an abduction but I didn't know who until it was too late and by the time I contacted Kingsley, you were back at Hogwarts. I cannot tell you how sorry I was, Miss Granger. I felt so useless…"

"It's alright," she interrupted, giving him an encouraging smile.

He took a deep breath.

"Lucius was, as you would imagine, furious that you got away. But he was even more enraged by Draco's defection. It brought everyone under suspicion, especially me because Draco and I…"

He paused and Sirius's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Hermione, however, urged him to continue, so he did.

"Lucius gave me a task. He said he knew you were going to be in Venice for your honeymoon, and he arranged it so the Ministry would send me down as your official shadow. I was to report back to both the Ministry _and_ the Club, which I did, saying you were spending time together and were doing everything possible to make it appear that you were a loving couple. But when we were walking, Miss Granger, I…I had a suspicion…and that's when I saw Antonin Dolohov. He was following us. I knew then that they had figured out something about the paintings – that they were valuable – and so I rushed back here and made the copies. I switched them before leaving the gallery. The alarm sounded just an hour after I left."

"So you think Dolohov took the paintings?" Sirius asked.

"Either him, or someone who works for him."

"What's going to happen when they find out the paintings aren't real?" Hermione asked.

"They'll know then what they've been suspecting – that I am not really a sympathizer to their regime. They'll come after me. But the Order's been prepared for this, and when they found out about the paintings they arranged for me to get to London with them and then they'll hide me."

"But your father…" Sirius started.

"He knows all this," Enrico interrupted. "He's already making plans to move to America. We have family there. I will join him when I can."

Sirius and Hermione sat in silence for a few moments, lost in thought. Never before had their "real world" ever seemed more present. Hermione felt properly shamed, knowing the superficial worries of her marriage were laughable compared to the hundreds of witches and wizards risking their lives to protect her.

Enrico glanced at the clock and started slightly, leaning in closely and motioning them to do the same as he stared at them intently.

"Now listen, because this is very important and we don't have much time," he said, refilling their glasses hurriedly. "Before I left England, I overheard a conversation between Lucius and Dacian Selwyn, Selena's husband. They are the unofficial leaders of the Death Eaters while He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is in hiding. They were speaking of an ancient ritual that I have not heard of. They are planning it for you, Hermione."

"What's it called?" she asked.

"Please…drink," Enrico said urgently, motioning to their glasses.

Sirius narrowed his eyes.

"Why?"

"Two reasons," Enrico said calmly, glancing at the clock again. "One, the bottle is my portkey to London and it needs to be empty in order to activate. Second, the whisky is laced with an Imperceptibility Potion. Since I'm not going to be here, the potion should keep you cloaked until the end of your honeymoon so you won't be in any direct harm as long as you don't draw attention to yourselves."

"Who sent the potion?" Hermione asked.

"The Order."

"Who brewed it?" Sirius asked.

"Severus Snape."

"There's _no way_ I'm drinking something that…"

"Not now, Sirius!" Hermione interrupted sharply, downing her drink and shooting her husband a look that told him he had better drink if he knew what was good for him.

Sirius swallowed his prepared diatribe and drank reluctantly.

"What was the ceremony called?" Hermione asked again.

"I didn't catch the full name," Enrico admitted. "It was something that sounded like 'Transdictum.'"

"_Cruciatum Transdictum_?" both Hermione and Sirius asked at the same time before looking at each other in surprise.

"How do _you_ know about it?" Sirius demanded.

"It's the title of Lily's painting," Hermione replied. "How do _you_ know about it?"

"All I know is the name. It was rumoured to be Voldemort's next stage in his plan to take over during the first war, but he was driven into hiding before we knew more about it. Everyone who ever knew anything ended up being killed or worse. Amy and Meg were researching it when they died. Lily and James were told before they went into hiding. And the Longbottoms were told just days before they were tortured. The only person who knew about it but got away with it was Dumbledore."

Enrico poured them one more glass, the bottle almost empty.

"You two should go back to the hotel. I'm afraid we don't have much time to finish talking," he said.

"Let me take a look at the paintings first," Sirius said, downing his drink with ease and standing.

Enrico stood as well.

"One condition, Il Nero," he said, pausing Sirius as he headed toward the paintings. "I know…because of your brother's involvement…and because of your relationship to the Potters…that these paintings will have a strong effect on you. I must ask…_insist_, really…that you do _not_ leave Hermione alone again like yesterday. I know she can take care of herself," he added quickly, sensing Hermione's building argument. "But right now, you need to stay together. Through everything."

He paused, watching Sirius contemplating it, before adding, "Please?"

"Yes," Sirius replied. "Though…I don't know if I'll be more of a help or a hindrance if we should be attacked while I'm…affected."

"I trust you," Hermione assured him with a small smile.

He returned it half-heartedly.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius walked over to the two paintings, shoulders tense but head held high. Enrico and Hermione remained quiet, watching him as he visibly flinched at James's sudden, precise assassination. As Lily's scene unfolded, Hermione saw Sirius's shoulders start to shake, signalling his tears. She knew he had seen the reflection when she heard his sharp intake of breath, his body frozen for just a few seconds longer as the painting faded back to the beginning.

"And now," Enrico said gently, "I think you two should go back to the hotel."

Sirius turned, slowly wiping the tears from his cheeks, his skin ashen but his face solemn. Hermione stood, walking to him and taking his hand in hers.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" she asked softly. "I had to do a fair bit of walking after I saw it. Just to clear my head."

"Yes, I can see why," he replied. "I think I might need to as well."

Enrico gave them an empathetic smile.

"Just be safe," he said. "Stay in heavily-crowded areas. The Gran Canal, San Marco…and try to be back at the hotel by nightfall."

"We will," Hermione assured, picking up her purse, her hand never leaving Sirius's. "You be safe too, yeah? And don't let Harry and Ron bully you. Tell them they'll hear it from me if they do."

Enrico chuckled.

"To be honest," he said, "As long as I'm with Draco, I'll be fine. I've been worried about him ever since I heard he defected."

"I suppose he'll be grateful for a friendly face…and the company. I don't doubt he's been a bit put-upon these days."

She hugged him and Sirius – who had summoned enough where-with-all to focus – shook Enrico's hand.

"Good luck," he managed to say with a lukewarm smile.

"You too," Enrico replied, flicking his wand to the paintings and shrinking them to a manageable size before pocketing them. "God willing, I will see you in London."

"Yes," Hermione said, following Sirius toward the door.

With a final wave, Enrico drained the rest of the contents of the bottle, which briefly burned bright before he disappeared completely.

"God willing," Hermione repeated softly before closing the office door behind her.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it!_


	29. Chapter 29: An Accidental Eavesdropping

**A/N:** I know I still need to update _Need You Now_ and _Interviewing Casanova_, but this chapter was written already, and since I had promised an update by the end of last week, I figured I'd at least just post it since it's written.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: An Accidental Eavesdropping**

The first thing Sirius registered as consciousness slowly came upon him was warmth. Yawning, he moved to stretch out his long limbs but as he did so, he felt weight on his chest and torso. Eyebrows knitted in groggy confusion, he slowly opened his eyes to the sight of Hermione, arms wrapped around his waist and head nestled against his chest, sound asleep.

He couldn't help the small smile that appeared on his face as he watched her.

Then the fear hit him.

It was the same fear that had tortured him for every minute of the past five days. It was a fear that taunted him every time he caught himself looking at her for too long, or longing for her when she wasn't around. It buried itself in his brain, laughing at him; mocking him with a voice that sounded eerily like his younger self.

'_Give it up, old man!'_ the voice would chide. _'You're in love with her and you can't escape!'_

It had been three days since their discussion about their relationship, and the subsequent – and blissfully distracting – revelation about Enrico and the Death Eaters. But as the hours passed by without so much as a hint of danger, the emotions that Sirius had been trying so desperately to deny were dogging him with a renewed energy.

He had meant what he had said to her that night. He _wasn't_ sure if the emotions he had been feeling were tied to sex or not. What he _hadn't_ said, however, was that it was getting progressively harder to fight the niggling suspicion that it really had nothing to do with their amazing physical chemistry and everything to do with that brilliant moment when she had kissed him for the first time – really kissed him – and how painful it had been when she had pulled away.

Now, as she lay there against him, he admitted to himself that the moment felt _right_. That having her in his arms – waking up to her deep, warm breaths against his skin – filled him with a deeper satisfaction than any sexual encounter had ever done.

He was in love. Officially.

But as she stirred, her small hand unconsciously caressing his skin, he remembered the suggestion he had made – and her unresisting agreement – and his heart sank. The irony of his situation did not escape him, though he silently cursed it. A man who had never loved before – who had never allowed for the opportunity – had finally fallen in love with the one woman who had closed herself against it.

"What the…" he heard Hermione say sleepily, and he grinned as she sat bolt upright, looking at herself and then at him in confused, blushing fury.

"Explain yourself," she demanded, and Sirius got the distinct impression that, had she been holding her wand, it would have been pointed directly at his manly bits.

"I woke up with you laying like that, kitten. It had nothing to do with me," he replied. He saw her re-evaluate her surroundings, and he couldn't help the smirk that crossed his face as her blush deepened, the realization that she had been sprawled across his pillow barrier hitting her.

"Mind, I'm not exactly complaining. There are definite ego-boosting perks to waking up to a beautiful woman laying in my arms."

She gave a small, shy smile before cautiously disentangling herself from him and scooting to the edge of the bed.

"What time is it?" she asked, not looking at him.

"About ten-fifteen."

"What would you like to do today?"

He swallowed the decidedly inappropriate comment that would have definitely breached the three days of comfortable camaraderie between them, and gave a simple smile.

"I thought we could go to the Palazzo Venier dei Leoni today. It's the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, and since I know you like Muggle art, I figured we could take a look."

Sirius tried to make his heart stop thumping against his chest as he saw a look of utter pleasure on her face at this suggestion.

"I didn't think…I mean, I've been dragging you to museums for the past few days…" she started, but he put his hand on her arm to stop her. She looked down at it, silent as if she had forgotten what she was going to say.

"I don't mind, love," he said softly. "I like going to museums with you."

She looked from his hand to him before taking a deep breath and clearing her throat, looking away as she nodded absently.

"Perhaps we should call up for some breakfast before we go to the museum," she suggested, her gaze turned resolutely out the window.

He arched an eyebrow.

"Call up? I though you didn't approve of house elf use?"

He couldn't help the tiny smile that formed as she gave him an exasperated look that reminded him fondly – if not perversely – of her summer at Grimmauld Place before her fifth year at Hogwarts.

"If I were to boycott all things made by house elves, I wouldn't be able to do anything in the wizarding world, would I?"

"Well…I figured you did most things the Muggle way. Shopping, cleaning, cooking…you know…just to keep the dreams of S.P.E.W. alive."

He gave her a cheeky grin and she – whether by apathy or habit of avoiding the argument her politics inevitably instigated – just shrugged.

"There's only so much I can do outside of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade. I can't exactly go into Woolworths to find quills and parchment, can I? Anyway," she added, looking at him with another shy smile that was doing odd things to his insides, "Lilia's breakfasts have been amazing. I wouldn't want to begrudge my taste buds."

He smiled, sitting up and swinging his legs over so he was sitting next to her. He silently rejoiced when she didn't move or flinch.

"If we have an English breakfast every morning, do you know how much exercise I'm going to have to do to maintain my girlish figure?" he teased. "I'm not as young as you, kitten. Looking this good takes an enormous amount of work."

He batted his eyelashes and she laughed, shoving him playfully in the shoulder. It was almost as if the past month hadn't happened; that they were back in Grimmauld Place with no complications, emotions, or responsibilities to the wizarding world in general.

Almost.

Their eyes met and he could feel the discomfort starting to build in her body. Deciding to be the proactive one for a change, he averted his gaze and cleared his throat before standing.

"I need to shower, so why don't you order breakfast? Then we'll have a leisurely walk over to the museum," he suggested, staring out into the bright Venetian sunlight so he didn't have to look at her.

He could feel her nod beside him.

"Simple fruit salad instead of a proper English breakfast then?" she asked, and he could hear a shadow of a smirk in her tone.

He turned to grin down at her, reflexively shooting her a wink.

"Sounds good, love," he said.

She blushed, and after another pause, he tore his gaze from hers and decided the best course of action was to head for the bathroom for a shower.

A decidedly _cold_ shower.

Closing the door, he heaved a deep sigh, leaning back against the wood and letting his eyes drift closed as he willed his heartbeat to slow. Five minutes more and he would have pounced upon her.

Merlin only knew how much longer he could last.

* * *

"What _I_ don't understand," Sirius was saying later that day over a shared bowl of tagliatelle Bolognese in a small Muggle bistro a few blocks from the Gran Canal, "Is how something so simple can be so…moving."

They were talking about the modern art they had just explored; a subject Hermione had _never_ expected Sirius to know the last thing about. But in the past few days, the man who she now officially – and comfortably – called her husband had handed out one pleasant surprise after another.

His knowledge of Muggle history had been the most shocking, especially when she found herself in particularly riveting discussions on politics and – his personal favourite – religion. Modern art – especially the impressive albeit slightly small Peggy Guggenheim Collection – was just another in a long list of topics on which Sirius was well-versed.

"Personally, my general appreciation of modern art stops with the artists in this collection. Cubists and surrealists – Picasso, Pollock, and Dali," she replied, spearing a garlic clove. "Everything past them seems…passionless."

He smiled slightly.

"You forget, my dear, that my formative years were in the 1960s and 70s. Every pureblood rebel worth his salt had either a Warhol or Lichtenstein print stuck to his bag. Used to drive the Slytherins insane."

The easy conversation, the snappy anecdotes, were becoming more and more present as Hermione took the time to discover her new husband – without sex. It had become harder – much harder – to hold hands in public, smile lovingly and kiss him sporadically, without encountering the nearly crippling desire to continue to decidedly less chaste territory in private.

Hence the reasoning for the pillow barrier.

She remained resolute, however, silently chastising herself when the desire struck, almost ashamed that her self-control couldn't serve them the four, three, two days left to their honeymoon. The nights remained silent. Until that morning, the pillow barrier remained unbreached.

Her heart, however, was not so well-protected.

And that was what worried her most.

"So," Hermione said, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. "What should we do this afternoon?"

Sirius shrugged.

"We've done almost everything there is to do in Venice," he said. "Why don't we pack up and go to Milan for the remaining two days?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

"Just like that, eh?"

He shrugged.

"Why not? It'll be fun, and it's a spontaneous decision. Gives the illusion of romance," he replied, averting his eyes.

"I've never been to Milan," Hermione admitted, deciding to ignore the subtle undertone of longing in his voice. "What's there aside from fashion houses?"

"Everything that needs to be in an Italian city. Architecture, museums, culture, food, wine…and, of course, the fashion houses."

"Why not Rome, while we're at it? Or somewhere south, on the Med?"

He gave her a level look.

"It's November, kitten. Not even the Mediterranean is immune to the climate of the northern hemisphere. And if you'd like, we could go to Rome, but it's awfully busy. I was thinking a quieter city. Milan, or if you want to go a bit further south, we could try Florence."

She laughed, shaking her head as she took another sip of San Pellegrino.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to your spontaneity. But a change of scene _does_ sound like a marvellous idea. And Ginny would _kill_ me if I passed up the chance to get her an obscenely overpriced piece of couture from Milan…" After a moment of contemplation, she nodded. "Alright. Let's go."

Sirius grinned.

"Knew you had it in you. Let's go back to the hotel and pack, and maybe Lilia can whip something up for us and we can have a picnic supper on the way," he said, tipping generously and all but heaving her to her feet.

Hermione chuckled at his enthusiasm, and together they headed out into the bright sunlight, throwing a casual wave to the grateful restaurateur. They locked hands with an ease that bothered them only when they thought about it, and set out to enjoy the early afternoon chill.

"Does this mean I get to drive?" Hermione asked with a broad grin.

"Over my dead body," he simply replied, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Don't say that too loud," Hermione warned, still smiling.

He chuckled but both let out gasps of surprise as they rounded an alley corner and nearly walked into Lucius Malfoy and Antonin Dolohov. Quick as lightening, Sirius pulled Hermione back around the corner, pinning her with his body as they stopped breathing, listening for signs that they had been caught.

"What do you mean, you just _lost_ them?" Lucius was saying in a hushed hiss.

"I watched them go into the museum with Medici. I never saw them leave."

"You already botched this up by allowing Medici to leave, but now you're telling me you've lost Black and Granger? Are you _looking_ for death, Antonin?"

Sirius and Hermione looked at each other in confusion. Sirius's reflexes had allowed them to duck back around the corner as soon as they saw the pair, but they had nearly walked into the two wizards. Surely men as powerful as Malfoy and Dolohov would have seen or at least _sensed_ that they were no longer by themselves, let alone caught by the very people they were hunting.

And yet they were continuing their conversation as if no one was around.

"I wouldn't be so quick to lay blame, Lucius," came Dolohov's low growl. "Wasn't it a fortnight ago that_ you_ botched up a simple babysitting job?"

Sirius and Hermione heard a 'thud,' and from the sound of the brief tussle, it seemed Lucius had Dolohov pinned against the wall.

"My sister-in-law is unconscious, _barely_ alive. My wife is miserable. My son is a blood traitor, and it's all because of that infuriating Mudblood that the Dark Lord wants to glorify beyond all others. I want her dead, but unfortunately that is not his will. So you _will_ find her and her joke of a husband or so help me, Antonin, I will take my rage out on you and use your family for target practice!" Lucius seethed.

"Get off me," Dolohov said, followed by the rustle of footsteps as Lucius stepped back. "You don't frighten me, Lucius. You may have Selena and Dacian protecting you right now, but you won't have them forever. So go back to England and prepare. I will keep you informed of my progress."

"What of their hotel? Have you tried waiting for them there?"

"It's cloaked," Dolohov replied. "A cheap trick but effective. Parlour magic, but irreversible."

"So you don't even know if they're still in Venice," Lucius snapped.

There was a pause.

"I don't know for certain," came the reluctant reply.

A growl of frustration was followed by the telltale sign of magic being conjured. Both Sirius and Hermione flinched at the cry of pain that pierced the air when whatever spell Lucius had sent hit Dolohov.

"The ceremony will not work without Granger, Dolohov! And without this ceremony, there will be no victory. Do you understand?"

"I'm not a child, Malfoy." Dolohov's voice was distant, but bubbling with barely-restrained ire.

"Then take your duties seriously! It's been three days since you last saw them. Set a trap. If you cannot find them here, make it so _they_ find _you_."

Their voices were starting to get louder; closer. Hermione felt Sirius curl himself above her, shielding her from view. Their wands were clutched tightly in their hands, but two sudden 'pops' told the pair that their enemies had just apparated away.

Hermione slowly exhaled the breath she had been holding as Sirius took a slow step back, peeking around the corner.

"Did we just accidentally overhear a conversation between two of Voldemort's trusted lieutenants?" Sirius asked, daring to speak in a whisper as if the empty alleyway was not enough proof of their solitude.

"Why didn't they see us when we turned the corner?" Hermione mused softly. "We were right there…"

"Imperceptibility potion," Sirius exclaimed, before lowering his voice, eyes casting around as if the two were still within hearing distance. "I guess it actually works."

Hermione couldn't help but smirk.

"Disappointed? Frustrated by the fact that you can't find fault with something Severus did?"

"He won this round. But I know he's not perfect."

She chuckled.

"You know, considering the circumstances, Severus really is quite reliable."

"One good deed does not redemption make," Sirius replied stoutly. "Besides, what if it never wears off?"

"Sirius, believe me when I say that we're really not that lucky."

He scoffed, but knew that she was right.

"What I'm worried about," Hermione continued as they cautiously started to walk back to the hotel, "Is what Dolohov might do to get our attention. Do you think he knows where to find Francesco or Enrico?"

Sirius shook his head.

"I doubt it. Enrico is under the protection of the Order and Francesco left for New York two days ago. Plus, they both took the potion too, remember?"

Her brow furrowed and Sirius chuckled, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"Hermione, we were two feet away from them and they had no idea we were there. Don't worry about Enrico and Francesco. They can take care of themselves. And you heard Lucius. The _Cruciatum Transdictum_ ceremony can't happen without you. And I'm here to make sure you're protected at all times, so calm down and let's get going."

She gave him a look of mock indignation.

"_I'm_ meant to be the bossy one in this relationship," she said.

He rolled his eyes.

"Well, I'm temporarily usurping your throne, Queen Bossyboots."

"Well, if you insist…_Queen_ Bossyboots."

He glared at her but she just smirked in triumph.

* * *

"Good God, I'm going to be positively _enormous_ when this trip is over!" Hermione groaned several hours later as they lay at the foot of the Italian Alps, eating the truly magnificent feast Lilia had packed for their journey to Milan. Sirius had decided to take the motorbike on the open road, and Hermione had found she actually enjoyed travelling on the machine – when there was solid ground beneath them.

The three and a half hour trip was almost over, but Sirius had decided to pull over for a bit of rest and food just as the sun was setting over the dusky green of the hillside. Smoke from a nearby farmhouse puffed merrily into the cloudless sky, and though it was a little cold, Hermione would not have given up a moment of the picture-perfect evening.

"You? Look at me!" Sirius replied, pinching some non-existent roll of fat at his waist. "It'll take hours of sit-ups for this to go away."

Hermione sat up on her elbows, looking down at him in amusement.

"That's the second time today you've complained about your figure. Am I going to have to worry about you taking up time in the bathroom to preen and primp in front of the mirror? Do I need to hide my bubble bath from you?"

He shot her a glare.

"There's nothing wrong with wanting to look good. And don't tell me you don't enjoy the idea of having a gorgeous man on your arm at the next Ministry ball."

"Oh, I do very much like that idea, but alas, what am I to do with you while I have said gorgeous man on my arm?" she teased.

"Cheeky," he said, reaching over and pinching her lightly.

She stuck her tongue out at him before heaving a sigh and lying back down on the blanket.

"How much further to Milan?" she asked.

"Not far. Maybe an hour," he replied, plucking a grape from the bunch between them. "I figured a Muggle hotel…less likely to be searched by Death Eaters."

"Did you make a reservation before we left Venice?" she asked.

"If there's anything I know about Muggle hotels, it's that they love impulsivity. Especially the posh ones – and _especially_ if the impulsive attitude comes with ludicrous sums of cash."

Hermione arched an eyebrow, pulling herself up on her elbows once more to look down at him again.

"Put a bit of research into this, have we?"

He grinned mischievously.

"Copious. I'm very _hands-on_."

She laughed.

"So…this stash of cash…you wouldn't happen to have it in Muggle money, would you?"

"Credit card, love."

"Always an answer for everything."

"That, my dear, is the pot calling the kettle black."

"The difference being, my _dear_, that I am never _wrong_."

He shook his head with a smile.

"I'm gonna have to work on that know-it-all attitude of yours. It's not healthy."

"If we're going to start fixing all the things we take issue with in each other, Mr. Black, I think my list is much longer than yours," she replied smartly before adding: "Starting with the fact that you snore."

"I do not!" he protested, sitting up to face her.

She laughed.

"Like a freight train. Could hardly sleep."

"You sleep soundly enough to steal all the blankets," he countered.

"I like to be bundled, thank you."

"Aha. So what about me?"

"It's not always about _you_, you know."

"What are you talking about? It's _always_ about me."

They chuckled together, enjoying the chill and the setting sun. Hermione felt oddly at peace. The past few days with Sirius had been some of the best of her life, and though she admitted that most of her life had been fraught with peril, her time with Sirius had made her forget – for brief, fleeting moments – that she was anything but a blushing newlywed enjoying time with her new husband.

"I could get used to this, you know," he said softly, as if reading her thoughts. "Just laying here with you."

She looked over at him and for a fraction of a second, she caught the look of deep serenity on his face.

Then she saw him tense.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "That was inappropriate and…"

"No," she said, giving him a shy smile. "I don't mind. I…I was actually thinking the same thing."

He looked at her for a moment before turning on his side to face her fully.

"Why did it take this Marriage Law for us to even consider each other as…as something…something more than friends?" he asked softly.

"I don't know," she replied honestly, also turning on her side and curling her body slightly. "I'm sure there are a lot of reasons. We were always…well…combatitive, I guess would be the word."

"I suppose," he said noncommittally. "Then there's the age difference."

"I think you know that that doesn't really bother me," she said.

"Perhaps it bothered me a little," he replied, still refusing to meet her gaze.

She waited for him to expand upon his statement, but he remained quiet. Finally, she tilted his chin up gently to meet her gaze, looking into the twin pools of sunlight-flecked silver.

"Does it still bother you?" she asked softly.

He chuckled slightly.

"I realized rather quickly that you were older than me in most ways," he admitted.

"Very true," she said, smiling.

He looked back into her eyes and she could feel the raw magnetism between them. Her body hummed with memories of their love-making; of the way he made her body feel with just a simple touch. From the way his eyes darkened, she knew he was feeling it too.

She leaned closer.

He moved to close the gap.

Then a bright light caught their eyes, and they looked up to see a lynx patronus streaking toward them across the twilight.

Kingsley's deep voice rang out into the cold, empty night:

"I'm waiting in Milan. There's been a mass attack. Remus has been wounded. Oliver Wood is dead."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Please take a moment to answer one, or both, of these questions:_

_1.) What questions do you have that haven't been answered yet?_

_2.) What do you think is going to happen throughout this story?_

_I'd like your feedback so I know whether I'm heading in the right direction or if I'm headed for disaster!_

_Thanks again! Hope you liked it!  
_


	30. Chapter 30: A Solemn Day

**A/N** - Okay. Another update on this. I know I have 2 other WIPs, but for some reason, I just keep getting inspired by this one. *shrugs* Who knows.

I dedicate this to my sister, who has asked why on earth every single chapter has been dedicated to Amy, & doesn't quite get the concept of 'eternal gratitude'. :-)

THANKS AMY! ...lol...

* * *

**Chapter Thirty: A Solemn Day**

The weather on the morning of Oliver Wood's funeral seemed to follow the mood of the day – grey and solemn, with a hint of a cold breeze. Mourners in black dress robes stood just as solemn as the weather, gathered around the freshly-dug earth. The shining red and gold of the Gryffindor keeper's uniform and the blue and gold of the matching Puddlemere United one next to it seemed dull on top of the black lacquered casket, the descending winter air seeping all beauty and light out of the day.

Hermione clung to Sirius's arm, eyes still cursedly dry in spite of the indescribable pain as she watched the casket lower slowly into the ground. She knew there were eyes on her – some questioning why she seemed so cold and dispassionate, but most surveying her behind barely-masked accusation. She couldn't help but agree with the latter. In spite of most people chorusing the contrary to her over the past week, Hermione couldn't help but feel incredibly responsible.

Her and her damn libido.

Oliver hadn't been the only target, but Hermione had a feeling that he had been the only one the Death Eaters had expected to kill. There had been a precision to the attacks that had been staggeringly well-executed; perversely lyrical in how it they had started, and how they had finished. There were three acts to the sadistic masterpiece, and only one goal: send a message to Hermione Granger.

They had started out with a slow build – a small skirmish outside the Ministry of Magic between some thuggish goons and Harry and Ron. In hindsight Hermione knew that even the most ambitious of Death Eaters wouldn't issue a full execution order on Voldemort's chosen foe, and so it wasn't much of a surprise that the two Aurors had little trouble felling their opponents. It had, however, distracted them enough so they weren't able to send out a warning in time for the second and third attacks.

Dolohov himself had gone for Remus. He had found the former professor in a Muggle movie theatre, with Emily. Remus's lightening reflexes and Emily's quick thinking had allowed the Muggles in the theatre to escape without harm, but Remus had not been so lucky. Dolohov had caught him twice with a silver blade, and after a night at St. Mungo's, Remus had to spend several days under house arrest to make sure he didn't come to any harm while in his weakened state.

Oliver had, of course, been the final act. They had caught him on the way home from Quidditch practice. The Aurors were certain there had been at least three Death Eaters there. The handsome Scot hadn't stood a chance.

In the slivers of sunlight that managed to push their way through the cloud cover, tear-stained mourners stood in disbelieving silence. Oliver's parents stood next to the open grave, his father stoic and pale and his mother just barely breathing as she tried not to sob openly. Hermione felt a shortness of breath, the reality of everything weighing her down, but she knew better than to show it. Her grief would be perceived as superficial at best, and thoroughly self-pitying at the very worst.

Harry and Ginny stood next to the Woods, Ginny holding the hand of the quietly-crying older woman while Harry stood in silent comfort next to Mr. Wood. In spite of Hermione's deep protests, the Order had decided that the weddings be postponed while everyone tried to wrap their minds around what had happened. Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Luna were all entirely sympathetic and did not begrudge Hermione the inconvenience.

Hermione, of course, felt incredibly guilty, which did not help the weight upon her shoulders.

The crowd was slowly dispersing, the heavy clouds above casting forbidding threats of snow. Henry Andrews's head of thick white hair was just visible through the crowd as he moved toward the Woods, leaning down to console them. A weathered-looking book was tucked under his arm, a slim white collar peeking out against the black of his robes. Hermione wondered just how many things the older man was qualified to do. In the short time she knew him, she counted real estate agent, solicitor, Ministry-qualified marriage bonder, and now a cleric for the Church of Scotland.

Hermione couldn't help the fleeting thought that being part of the Dumbledore family must have instilled a natural penchant for overachievement.

"Are you ready to go, love?" Sirius asked, his voice soft and soothing. She caught his gaze; his eyes light with empathy. He knew what she was going through. Hermione wondered, aside from Amy, just how many lovers he had had to bury over the years.

"Just a few more minutes," she whispered, managing a faint, insincere smile. She was contented to stand there as long as possible – unwilling to leave Oliver alone yet again. She knew he was truly at rest now, but she didn't know if that made her feel any better.

The Woods passed by her slowly, Mr. Wood inclining his head in polite recognition as he held his trembling wife. Mrs. Wood, however, had no such aspirations of civility, and her pale blue eyes struck daggers into Hermione as she paused to look at the younger woman.

"This is all your fault," she breathed, the sallow nature of her skin becoming more pronounced in her barely-restrained anger. "You may not have wielded the wand, but it was you that killed him."

"Mary, stop," her husband said sharply, shooting Hermione an apologetic look, but Hermione could tell by the half-hearted sincerity in his eyes that he didn't necessarily disagree with his wife.

"You're right," Hermione said softly, ignoring Sirius's hand as it touched her shoulder in silent protest.

"'Mione, no," Sirius said, but she shook her head.

"She's right," she said to her husband, refusing to look the grieving mother in the eye, and feeling cowardice start to couple with her guilt. "Mrs. Wood, if I could take it all back, I would. I swear to you I would. But I can't and now my only choice is to make sure it doesn't happen again. And that I _will_ do."

"That's not good enough," Mrs. Wood snapped.

"Yes it is," Mr. Wood said, and Hermione was only slightly relieved by the honest intensity in his eyes. "You do your best, Hermione. That's all anyone can ask of you."

Hermione let them walk by her without another word, wracked by rage and sorrow. How could she let herself leave her friends in such a vulnerable situation, during such a dark time? She had been on _holiday_ while it had happened. How _dare_ she take a holiday in the middle of a war!

"Hermione, no matter what anyone says…this is _not_ your fault," Sirius said as the last of the mourners walked by, watching her in shameless curiosity until they received what Hermione assumed to be a scathing look from Sirius. Turning back to her, he saw her eyes fixed on the open grave, and added: "Oliver wouldn't want you to…"

"Please," she interrupted, looking up at him. "I appreciate the support. Really. But…please don't say he wouldn't want me feeling guilty. I _should_ feel guilty, and I do."

"But…"

"Sirius," she whispered, taking his hand and looking up into the warm, swirling grey-green of his eyes. "Just stop."

She gave his hand a squeeze before dropping it, turning away from him as she slowly walked towards the gates of the cemetery.

* * *

The tone of the kitchen in Grimmauld Place was sombre as everyone quietly congregated. Hermione sat between Remus and Ginny, head down so as to avoid the eyes of her fellow members. Oliver hadn't been a fully-initiated member of the Order of the Phoenix, but he had helped out enough times for people to know who he was. He had been popular, not just because of his position as a professional Quidditch player, but because of his wonderful personality. Hermione knew he would be missed, which was more than she could say for herself.

"Hermione, please," Remus whispered from her right, still looking a little pale but otherwise fine. "You can't do this to yourself. Nobody blames you."

"The Woods do."

"The Woods have just lost their only child. They want to blame someone and you're the closest target. It doesn't mean they're right."

"Why don't _you_ blame me?" she asked, knowing that he had two new, red scars that wouldn't have been there if it hadn't been for her.

"Because you didn't attack me," he said simply. "And because we live in a world where this could happen to anyone. It just happened that these targeted attacks were loosely related to you."

"Which is _why_ I feel guilty," she said, wishing that people would just leave her to her guilt.

"Your guilt makes about as much sense as Harry's does about this whole Godforsaken war," Ginny said from Hermione's left, having been eavesdropping on the conversation. "You shouldn't feel responsible for these attacks any more than he should about the war in general. The Death Eaters and Lord Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy and Selena Selwyn have stupid excuses for what they do. Don't insert meaning into it. You'll drive yourself crazy."

"Well," Remus added with a small smile. "Crazier."

Hermione didn't even pretend to smile.

"Alright," Kingsley said loudly from the head of the long table. He had been talking animatedly to Mr. Weasley and Sirius, both of whom were now flanking him, neither looking particularly pleased.

"First, let's bow our heads and observe a moment of silence for our fallen friend," he said once he had everyone's attention.

Everyone bowed their heads. Hermione started resolutely at the wood grain of the table top, feeling strangely hollow as she memorized every line and scratch and chip. She hadn't loved Oliver. He had been less to her than Remus, but she supposed it was that fact in and of itself that was one of the many reasons why she felt such a strong sense of responsibility.

"Right," Kingsley said, back to business as usual. "First thing's first – Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Luna's weddings."

"I thought we decided to put those on hold for the time being," Harry asked.

"We did," Sirius said. "But the sooner you marry, the sooner we can get you out of the country for a little while."

"We're not _leaving_," Ginny said, looking scandalized at the mere thought. "There's so much to do here…"

"We feel," Mr. Weasley said over his protesting daughter. "That Harry…and the rest of you…will be safer outside of England for a few weeks."

"You're joking," Ron said. "We're not just gonna _leave_."

"I'm afraid we're not giving you a choice," Kingsley said definitively.

"You four can either go willingly, or we'll be forced to apply more…_drastic_ measures," Sirius added.

There was a general outcry amidst three of the four, with Luna sitting very still next to her loudly-protesting fiancé. Hermione watched her friend's delicate fingers trace the table, Luna's pale face even more pronounced as her eyes shimmered with bravely-concealed tears.

Finally, she stood.

"Listen," she said loudly, causing the three to stop speaking just by pure shock, as Luna never raised her voice. "I know we should want to stay and fight, and I _do_, but if I must go to keep Harry safe, I defer to the better judgment of others." She looked at Ron, her protuberant eyes misting as a tear escaped and ran down the side of her face. "I don't want to lose you. When I heard you had been attacked…" She trailed off, swallowing the uncharacteristic show of emotion and wiped her eyes, looking at Kingsley. "I assume, of course, that you have a plan?"

"Of course," Kingsley said, nodding gratefully to her as Harry, Ginny, and Ron all remained silent. "We think the best thing is for the four of you to all go as far away as possible for a few weeks. As Harry and Ginny were planning on going to Sydney, I see no reason why Ron and Luna can't go as well. You'll also be going with a guard…not a lot of people," he added as he saw the bubble of an argument in their eyes. "I will go, along with Tonks, Bill, and Charlie."

"I'm _not_ going on my honeymoon with my _brothers_," Ginny cried fiercely.

"Chill out, Gin. You won't even know we're there," Bill said soothingly. "Besides, wouldn't you rather Harry be safe than sorry?"

"Don't you pin this on me," Harry said hotly, his green eyes shining with frustration. "I can look after us just fine."

"Harry," Hermione said softly, looking at her best friend. "Please. I…I don't know what I'd do if I lost you too."

"It's only for a couple of weeks," Sirius assured. "Then you'll be right back here in the thick of it."

Hermione could see that none of her friends were particularly pleased by the arrangement, but if it kept them all out of harm's way – at least for a bit longer – than she, too, would defer to the better judgment of others.

Especially since her own judgments had heretofore been less than laudable.

"One condition," Harry said, jaw tense. "Hermione doesn't go on any missions until we get back."

"Harry…" Hermione started, but Mr. Weasley interrupted.

"That actually brings us to our second point," he said. "Effective immediately, Hermione and Sirius are on research only."

"What?" Hermione cried, looking at the man as if he's spouted two heads.

"We can't afford you being taken again, 'Mione," he explained. "So you and Sirius are to stay put. Work, home, and mandatory social functions. That's it."

"You must be joking," Hermione said, looking at Sirius for confirmation.

"I don't like it any more than you do, kitten," he said solemnly. "But I think it's for the best. Temporarily," he added, though it was more a warning for Mr. Weasley than anything else.

"But…I made a promise. To the Woods," she said.

"Think, Miss Granger," Severus said from the corner where he had been standing, not bothering to correct himself with regards to her name. "We have just lost a friend to the resistance. The last thing we need is to lose more people because you decide to go off on some…_vendetta_ to avenge Oliver Wood."

"But it's my fault he's dead!" she shouted, standing. "It's my fault and…"

"Be that as it may, how many others are you willing to sacrifice, then?" Severus asked coldly. "How many more lives would you like to be responsible for losing?"

"She's not responsible for losing _any_, Wood included," Sirius growled angrily at his rival, but Hermione knew that, even in that room, there was only a handful that truly agreed with him.

"I think," Remus said, seeing the way Hermione's shoulders sagged as she sat back down and the rage that burned in Sirius's eyes as he stood off against Snape. "I think we should say that Hermione and Sirius have _limited_ duties, so long as Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Luna are out of the country?" He looked around. "We can renegotiate once we've had some time to regroup. Alright?"

There was a reluctant murmur of agreement.

"Fine," Kingsley said. "With that settled, let's move on to our next item…"

* * *

Nobody wanted to stick around after the meeting, so Sirius offered to stay back and clean up while Hermione returned to the Bloomsbury house. It was eerily quiet, as Draco had been moved to a safe house with Enrico, and Emily had gone to visit family while she was in town.

Hermione didn't like the silence.

As she undressed, getting ready for bed, she had a curious feeling of anger slowly descend. Resentment and rage, but above all, guilt trickled over her, coursing through her veins and throbbing in her head. Suddenly, the unfairness of the world, the Order, and life in general started to overwhelm her. It slid over her body luxuriously, like a mink. Eyes blazing, she started to tear through the room, getting a rush from the rip of the curtains and the smash of glass. Spilt perfume filled the air as her tornado continued to spin in a wilder and wilder circle of lapsing control.

"Hermione!"

Sirius's voice broke through her rage and she spun around to face him, dressed in nothing but her underwear and body rigid with tension.

He surveyed the room and then her.

"It's not your fault," he said simply.

"The hell it's not!" she screamed.

"It's not your fault," he repeated, taking a step toward her.

"Stop it," she warned.

"Hermione," he said softly, stopping in front of her. "It's not your fault."

"Then whose?" she roared. "You can't have my guilt, Sirius! It's mine to do with what I please."

"True," he acquiesced. "But it's not your..."

"Say it one more time," she warned, her eyes glaring at him.

"It's not your fault," he said, and she rushed at him, her fists landing on every available piece flesh she could find. He let her take her frustration and her hurt out on him, his arms coiling around her body and holding her steady until her anger gave way to exhaustion and she collapsed into his arms.

The room was spinning. Every small occurrence of the past month and a half - from that doomed October morning when she had found herself hungover in Oliver's bed to that moment, standing in Sirius's arms - flashed in blinding Technicolor through her brain.

It was too much. She ripped herself from Sirius and rushed to the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time.

She was still kneeling on the cool tile floor when Sirius entered, holding a glass of water. She accepted it gratefully, wordlessly, and he crouched down next to her, running his hand through her mess of curls.

"It's not your fault," he said.

She sighed.

"I know. I can't help if I want it to be, though. I'm so scared, Sirius."

"We all are, love. This hit too close for a lot of people. I know how that feels."

She looked up at him, blinking her big whisky eyes.

"How did you get over Amy's death?" she asked softly.

He smiled gently, continuing to run his hand through her hair.

"It took a lot of time, love. A lot of time, rage, tears...but it does get lighter as each day passes. As long as you know that the cause is worthy and the spirit lives on."

She arched an eyebrow.

"That's awfully Zen of you."

He chuckled.

"You should have seen me at the time. What you did to the bedroom was nothing compared to what I did to my flat."

She glanced passed him into the room and cringed.

"I can't believe I did that," she said.

He smiled.

"To tell you the truth, I'm surprised it's not worse."

"It probably would have been if you hadn't walked in. Thanks, by the way."

He nodded.

"You get yourself cleaned up, and I'll take care of the room."

"You don't have to..." she started but he chuckled and held a finger to her lips.

"I have to live in the room too, and Lord knows you'll probably end up doing the lion's share of the work in the next few months. So just let me take care of you tonight, okay?"

The strong, independent woman within her wanted to protest that she was not some fragile thing to be taken care of. But insecure little girl within her saw the sincerity in his eyes. This, coupled with the sheer exhaustion in her body, halted the argument before it reached her lips, and she nodded to him.

Half an hour later, after a long, hot shower, Hermione emerged from the bathroom feeling slightly better than she had before. The room was straightened, but there was still the lingering scent of perfume on the air that made the room smell a little like a rose garden at twilight. It reminded her of Venice, and of the moments of peace she felt lying in bed, knowing Sirius was right next to her.

The man himself was sitting on the edge of the bed, shirt unbuttoned, fiddling with the clasp of his watch. Hermione just stood in the doorway for a few minutes, smiling slightly as she imagined her life like this. A quiet marriage to the man in front of her suddenly didn't instill her with the amount of terror the idea once had. And suddenly the emotions she had promised herself she'd never feel - the emotions that she had sworn off because she didn't want to invite anymore hurt and pain into her life - were gripping her heart with large, warm hands.

And she knew - this was what being in love must feel like.

Then she saw the pillow barrier in the middle of the bed, and Sirius's staunch stance against any type of non-essential physical contact reminded her that her feelings had not been proven mutual. But the way he looked up at her, the glint of desire darkening his eyes briefly as he surveyed her in just a towel, gave Hermione the most dangerous emotion of all.

Hope.

"How do you feel?" Sirius asked, drawing her attention back to the larger situation.

She sighed.

"I've been worse. But I've also been much, much better."

He smiled sympathetically.

"You must be exhausted," he said as she padded over to her closet, pulling out an over sized t-shirt from the large pile on the shelf.

"Yeah, I think I just need a good...night's sleep..." She trailed off as her eye caught something on a higher shelf, and she pulled it down softly before feeling her legs buckle.

It was Oliver's Quidditch jumper.

"C'mon, love," Sirius suddenly whispered in her ear as she collapsed into his arms, trying to ease the cloth from her vise-like grasp. "Put it down. We'll deal with it tomorrow."

She allowed him to lift her into his arms and carry her over to the bed. She allowed him to slip the t-shirt over her body, his hands warm and tender as he tucked her in.

He brushed his lips over her forehead, and she grasped his arm.

"Will you hold me tonight?"

He smiled gently, nodding. She pulled the pillows out of the way as he stripped out of his funeral garb. Sliding into bed next to her, he turned the lights out before wrapping his arms around her body. She nuzzled into him, feeling safe and cocooned for the first time in her life, and fell fast asleep.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it!_


	31. Chapter 31: A New Perspective

**A/N:** Oh crimany - has it really been this long? *gulp*

Sorry for the delay. Long story short - real life's a bitch, then you die. :-D Also - my beta is ridiculously bogged down by her own RL issues, so this is unbeta'd...aside from the admittedly piss-poor job I do myself. Please, please be kind.

I dedicate this to the anonymous reviewer **dontlosefaith** (among others) for reminding me that I should, in fact, update this epically-long fic. Thanks to everyone who has been super-supportive about it!

**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-One: A New Perspective**

"Y'know, considering how little time there was to prepare for our wedding, I'm a bit impressed by the number of gifts we received," Sirius said one evening as they sat in their bedroom, his voice slightly muffled by the piles of brightly-coloured presents around him.

"I'm surprised by the quality, to be honest. I mean…considering the circumstances, I didn't expect the gifts to be so expensive. Or useful," Hermione replied from her perch on the floor where sat cross-legged with a piece of parchment in front of her, the carpet littered with ripped wrapping paper.

"What on earth is this?" Sirius asked, emerging from the sea of gifts with a plastic contraption in his hand.

"I believe that is a cheese grater," Hermione said, taking the piece of kitchenware. "For parmesan cheese. It's probably from one of my relatives, right?"

"Hugh," he said after glancing at the attached card, standing to walk over to her and examining the instrument with interest. "Why on earth do we need something like that?"

Hermione chuckled, writing her cousin's name and gift on the parchment.

"Knowing Hugh, Aunt Hermia probably reminded him to get us a gift and he went into the first store he could and grabbed the first thing he saw." Then she sighed, stretching her arms until she felt a satisfying 'pop' in her shoulders. "How long have we been at this?"

Sirius looked at his watch.

"Three hours. Wanna take a break?"

"Please."

It had been just over a week since the funeral and the newlyweds had been run off their feet. Their days had been packed with separate assignments: Hermione's with the work she had missed while on their honeymoon and Sirius with arranging the house from a mass of new furniture to the home Hermione had envisioned the first day they had stepped into it.

Each evening, Hermione had come back to find a newly-furnished room and a little less mindless clutter. In spite of being extremely pleased that Sirius was taking the initiative and doing most of the work, Hermione quietly marvelled at how easily he fell into the role of domestic god. It was a new side of him that she appreciated, even though the stubbornly-irrational part of her brain screamed that it was _too_ comfortable.

She tired very, _very_ hard to ignore that part of her conscience.

Another thing she – and Sirius – had tried very hard to ignore was the fact that their sleeping arrangement had changed. The day after the funeral, they awoke to find their arms wrapped tightly around each other. The next day, in spite of the reinstated pillow barrier, found the pillows discarded and their bodies entwined once more. It wasn't sexual – not on purpose, at least – but after the third night they made the mutual decision to forgo the pillows while simultaneously making independent decisions not to be bothered by it.

The effort hadn't been nearly as taxing as they originally thought.

"Whose brilliant idea was it to do this on the one day we didn't have anything important to do?" Sirius asked, sinking down next to his wife and stretching his long legs out.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Hermione replied, reflexively leaning into the side of his body as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "I was getting tired of looking at this pile while eating breakfast off of paper plates."

He chuckled.

"Merlin knows we have enough dishes now," he joked, nodding to the piles of plates, goblets, and other assorted tableware from well-meaning but highly unoriginal friends.

"I do wish the Weasleys hadn't bought us that set of saucepans," Hermione said. "I don't they realized just how expensive they are. Arthur was so proud that he purchased them in a Muggle store but I can't help…"

"Calm down, love," Sirius interrupted. "Things have never been better for them. With Arthur's promotion to head of your department and all the children out of the house, everything's just fine."

"But with two weddings…and the twins soon to follow…"

He stopped her by turning her face gently to face him, giving her a look that managed to be both stern and amused.

"Miss Granger," he said, shadows of his trademark smirk threatening his professorial tone. "If you continue to shoulder the world's problems, I may be forced to drastic measures to secure a light-hearted smile from you."

She smiled slightly.

"That sounds awfully forbidding, Mr. Black," she replied.

"I fear it may come down to something quite horrible," he said solemnly. "Something that includes personal embarrassment on a massive scale. I'd like to avoid it if possible, but if I must, I must."

She gave him a confused look and he heaved a heavy sigh.

"I had hoped it wouldn't come to this, but…" Then he gave his wide, cheeky grin. "I know where you're ticklish."

Hermione gave a loud shriek as Sirius's fingers grasped her around the middle, and she dissolved into uncontrollable giggles as she tried fruitlessly to bat his hands away. She managed to scurry out of his reach, and was on her feet at the doorway by the time he clambered up.

She was laughing and so was he, the air lighter than it had been a moment earlier. She shook her head, heavy curls coming out of her hasty ponytail, and smiled as he approached her. She leaned against the door jam as he came to stand in front of her.

"You're so childish sometimes," she said, though her smile was wide and sincere.

"You're so grown-up sometimes," he replied, gazing down at her with a look that Hermione couldn't read.

"Well," she said, glancing away from his face. "One of us has to be, I suppose."

There was a moment of silence before he tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at him.

"It's okay to be happy, Hermione," he whispered.

She gave a small smile.

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm being silly. I just…I suppose I'm just tired."

He nodded.

"What do you say we finish this tomorrow after the weddings? Kingsley wants the lovebirds and their entourage off by mid-afternoon. We'll have some time."

She nodded just as her stomach rumbled.

He chuckled.

"Food before rest, though, I think," he said.

"Thank you, Sirius," she said softly.

"What for?"

"For just…for this week. For being…there…for me. I don't…I don't think I ever thanked you. Not properly, or sincerely."

His face softened, and for the briefest of seconds she thought she saw som4ething she had been both desperate and terrified to see for the past week. It was a quick flash before he schooled his features again, but she had seen it.

Love.

It sent a thrill through her and made her look into those fathomless grey-green eyes with more confidence. He loved her. She knew that now. And for the first time in her entire life, she was comfortable with admitting that she felt the same way.

And the thought didn't frighten her nearly as much as she thought it would.

"You're welcome, kitten," he said, his easy grin not as confident as it usually was as he tried to hide his emotions.

"I do appreciate it. Really," she added.

He smiled, kissing her lightly on the nose.

"I know," he replied.

Normally, he would have pulled back, stepping away from her, but he stood there, bodies almost touching as his lips hovered over hers, his breath warm against her skin. Hermione could see the play of emotions across his face; the battle between his desire and his hard-won self-control. She knew in that moment that their casual, maddeningly platonic relationship suddenly hung in the balance, but for the life of her she couldn't remember why they were staying platonic in the first place when all she had been wanting and fantasizing about for the past week was making love to him over and over again like those stolen hours in Venice.

The slamming of the front door made them both jump.

"'Mione! Sirius!"

Hermione could feel Sirius instinctively take a step back as Emily's footsteps sounded through the foyer below them. Quick as lightening, Hermione gripped his shirt and tugged him towards her, catching his lips with hers as she moved to coil her arms around his neck.

He groaned into her mouth, hands gripping her hips as he drank from her, consuming her like a man tasting the sweet triumph of an oasis in the midst of an endless desert; devouring her as if he had been convincing himself that it wasn't real and he was just finding out that it was. It had felt like a lifetime ago since he had kissed her like that, tongues duelling for dominance as lips and teeth clashed. She pressed her body against him and felt his desire locked behind those sinfully-delicious jeans.

She wanted it – and him – and trailed her hands down to the denim band.

He pulled away.

"Stop," he breathed, catching her hand in his as he leaned his forehead against hers. "We can't. Emily…"

"She can wait," Hermione purred, leaning in but he took another step back.

She blinked at him, a wave of anger and disappointment cresting over her. Had she misread him? Had he grown tired of her already? A poisonous idea filtered through her head. Was that the _real_ reason why he had stopped the physical aspect of their relationship in Italy?

She turned away, trying to control her face so he didn't see the questions in her eyes, but she was stopped by a pair of strong arms wrapping tightly around her waist.

"It's not that I don't want to," he breathed in her ear, his nose nuzzling into the hollow behind her ear. "It's that I _do_ want to. I want you so badly that I don't think I could stop if I kissed you much longer."

"Who said stop?" she breathed back, and she felt his lips curl into a smile against her skin.

"As much as I adore Emily, there are certain things I would prefer she was not around to witness."

Hermione turned in his arms to look at him.

"You present a good point," she said. "Though I could argue that she would know better than to enter our room without knocking."

She saw a hesitance in his face and somehow knew what he was thinking.

"You're worried that she didn't come alone," she said, making it more of a statement than a question.

"I…er…look, I know Moony's enraptured by your cousin, but less than a month ago…" He let the sentence trail off, but Hermione knew what he meant.

"I'll go down to see if she's by herself. Come down after you've dealt with your…issue." She gave a glance at the bulge in his jeans and with a small smile, went downstairs.

"How's Aunt Hester?" Hermione asked when she found her cousin in the kitchen, standing in front of the refrigerator.

"Fuming," the petite Muggle replied, her eyes still fixed on the contents of the refrigerator. "She demanded to know why you didn't invite the rest of the family to the wedding."

She finally pulled out a bottle of water, and Hermione couldn't help the admittedly-goofy grin on her face as it reminded her of a memory. The day she and Sirius had returned from their honeymoon, Emily and Remus had come into the house hauling dozens of bags from Sainsbury's, and one of the items they had purchased had been bottled water. Sirius simply hadn't understood why anyone would _buy_ water, especially after discovering the indoor plumbing in the house. Emily had tried to explain the health and environmental risks that polluted city water posed on humans, but the suspicious pureblood had demanded proof. After an extensive – and amusingly thorough – taste test between bottled water, tap water, and conjured water, Sirius had declared the whole concept utterly preposterous and from then on refused to drink any of the bottles Emily had purchased.

"What?" Emily asked, shaking Hermione from her reverie and causing the brilliant brunette to blush a little.

"Nothing," she said, moving to get herself a bottle of water. "What did you tell your mother?"

"The truth. I told her it was a magical ceremony with werewolves and a pagan orgy."

Hermione gave her the look the comment deserved and Emily chuckled.

"Relax, _Herms_. I told her it was a small affair and the only reason I had gone was because you had no friends and needed a maid of honour."

"Bitch," Hermione teased, and again felt her silly grin slide into place as she felt the same strong arms she adored coil around her waist and the scent of Sirius's cologne envelop her as he let his chin rest on her shoulder, his lips softly brushing her neck.

Emily arched an eyebrow.

"Clearly I've missed a lot since I've been away," she deadpanned, but there was a hint of a self-satisfied smirk on her face as she said it. Emily, Ginny, and Luna had cornered Hermione soon after the funeral and demanded to know absolutely _everything_ about what had happened in Italy, and both Emily and Ginny had scoffed loudly at the "no physical contact" rule. Hermione was fairly certain that the two had placed bets on how long the arrangement would last.

"We were just going to go out to dinner," Sirius said casually, ignoring Emily's innuendo which only furthered to broaden the Muggle's smirk. "Would you like to join us?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to impose," she replied, the sparkle in her eyes showing just how much she was enjoying herself.

"You wouldn't be imposing," Hermione said, an identical smirk of her own mirroring her cousin. "We could invite Remus. Sort of like a double date."

Emily's face flushed scarlet and Hermione's grin deepened. While far from the hot and heavy relationship _she_ had enjoyed with her former professor, Hermione knew the chemistry between Remus and Emily was too strong to ignore. A tiny part of her worried that Emily was just a rebound crush for Remus, but the stronger part of her – the part that saw the easy devotion in her ex-lover's eyes when he looked at Emily – told her that they were a match made in heaven.

"He can come if he wants," Emily mumbled, her blush still blooming on her cheeks as she dropped her gaze to the floor.

"I'm sure he will," Sirius said reassuringly, pulling away from Hermione while adding, "I'll go floo him."

"Floo who?" a voice said, and they all jumped as they turned to see the man in question striding into the room, his intelligent grey eyes puzzles as Emily's blush deepened.

"You," Hermione replied as he greeted her with a chaste kiss on the cheek before moving towards Emily. "We were going to go out to grab a bite and were wondering if you wanted to join us."

Remus slung his arm around Emily that to a casual observer came across as merely friendly. Hermione knew from experience, however, that it was a mark of security and possession. The gesture made her grin widen to a happy, toothy smile and she relaxed into Sirius, whose arms had re-coiled around her body.

"Well, considering I came over to invite Emily out for dinner, I suppose all of us going would be almost as good." He grinned down at Emily, and the look she returned was so full of adoration that for the briefest of seconds, Hermione wondered whether in the three weeks the pair had known each other, something stronger had developed between them.

The thought made her think of her own situation; of the easy camaraderie and absolute trust she felt for Sirius. The idea that _love_ – that emotion that seemed so foreign and yet so comfortable in her body – could blossom so freely between two people made her once again question her willingness to surrender herself to it.

"Uh-oh," Hermione heard Emily say. "She's thinking too hard. You can always tell by…"

"The crease between her eyebrows," Sirius finished, moving slightly so he could see her face and trace a gentle finger along the body part in question. "It's usually followed by a fiery, defiant glare and a purse of those beautiful lips."

"That's right," Emily said softly, and Hermione dragged her gaze from her husband's silver orbs to her cousin. There was a look Hermione didn't quite understand on the other woman's face, but it wasn't a bad look. It, too, was contemplative – almost a mirror of her own.

Remus chuckled.

"The lips must be genetic," he said, gazing down at Emily. "But your eyes narrow just slightly when you're thinking too hard."

The look the pair shared was so intimate that Hermione felt the need to look away and give them space. Her gaze fell upon Sirius, but his look was not happy. He quickly schooled his features but she had caught the emotions. Jealousy, possession, and a hint of sadness.

"Shall we all go get some food, then?" he asked, breaking his gaze on Hermione to look at the other couple.

"Sure. What are we hungry for?" Remus asked.

"Why don't the two of you go on alone?" Hermione said, her gaze never leaving Sirius's face. "I'm not particularly hungry…for food."

The last part made Sirius look back down at her again, and she caught the mix of confusion and guarded anticipation in his eyes.

"Are you sure?" Remus asked.

"They're sure," Emily replied, and Hermione didn't need to look at her cousin to know that the knowing smirk was back on her face. "C'mon, Remus. There's a lovely little Italian place nearby. Specializes in Venetian cuisine."

A faint, almost imperceptible blush started to creep up Sirius' neck, and had Hermione not been so shocked by it, she would have given Emily a glare for her cheek.

The other couple, however, had manoeuvred to the door.

"Don't wait up!" were the older woman's last words before their footsteps faded in the hallway and the door closed, the house descending into silence.

The two left in the kitchen continued to stare at each other before Hermione said, "Did you just blush?"

He gave a half-shrug, half-nod, though his eyes help a spark of growing frustration.

"I suppose I should have known that you'd tell Emily about Venice. Emily, and probably Ginny and Luna. I just…I would rather it wasn't brought up."

Hermione blinked.

"What?"

"I would…I would rather it wasn't spoken about so…" He searched for the words. "Casually, I guess."

"Why?"

He sighed.

"Fine, maybe I'd just rather it not be brought up so casually around Remus."

She frowned then.

"Why?"

He took a step back, his eyes starting to burn an angry silver fire as he ran his hand through his shaggy black hair.

"_Why?_" he asked incredulously. "Did it ever occur to you that in marrying you I lost the one person I could confide in?"

"Excuse me?"

"Remus. I came home wanting to talk to him about how I felt…" He stopped abruptly then sighed again. "I can't talk to him about you, 'Mione, and right now…well…you're all I have to talk about."

She gaped at him.

"Sirius, Remus and I…we're done. I mean…truly _done_. What I feel…felt…for him is _nothing_ compared to what I feel for…" It was her turn to stop abruptly, then she motioned to where the other couple had been standing. "Look at him with Emily, for God's sake! He's _completely_ over me."

"I think that sometimes," he admitted softly. "Then I see you look at him like you did five minutes ago. So full of…of longing."

It took Hermione a moment to realize what he was talking about, then she tensed. It was the natural reaction when she was confronted with a situation-changing decision. If she told the truth – admitted that the longing was for the simple intimacy between two fated souls – then how would he react? Would it push him away? It was an emotion neither of them were used to having, and she already knew he was afraid of how he felt for her. Would this push him over the edge and ruin all the progress they had made as a couple?

The alternative, however – making him think that she still cared for Remus as more than just a very good friend – just felt so dishonest. She wasn't sure she could keep up the lie. She wasn't sure she _wanted_ to keep up the lie.

So she took a deep breath, and plunged.

"It wasn't him I was looking at," she said softly, touching his chin to draw his attention back to her because somewhere in all her thinking, he had looked away. "I wasn't longing for him. It was _them_. The way they feel for each other…the intimacy between them…the easy devotion…the lov—" But she stopped herself. She couldn't _say_ 'love.' Not yet. Not until she knew for sure.

"I long for what they have, Sirius," she contented herself with saying. "It's so…_simple_ with them. I want it. But not with Remus."

He looked at her and in that moment, no words had to be spoken. He knew what she meant. She searched his face for terror, or hesitation, or something to validate the very real fear of rejection that seemed to have settled itself in the pit of her stomach over the past few days. It had sat like a bitter taste on the back of her tongue, but she knew that if she hadn't said it, the uncertainty would have driven her mad.

She searched for the pity, waited for the gentle let-down, but it didn't come.

Instead she found relief. She found warmth. She found strength.

"I want it too," he said softly.

They were looking at each other so intensely, concentrating so hard on the words they had both wanted to blurt out to each other for weeks that they both started violently at the sound of the front door slamming.

"Sirius! 'Mione!" voices called, followed by heavy, familiar footfalls on the marble foyer.

"In the kitchen, Harry," Hermione called, eyes still on Sirius as she gave him a small smile that both apologized for the interruption and promised a return to the conversation.

"We ran into the nauseatingly happy couple outside. Emily said to leave you two alone but Kingley wanted us to drop off some files to you, so we figured that took precedence over whatever petty argument you two are having," Harry said, appearing at the doorway closely followed by Ron and a more reluctant Ginny and Luna. All four were laden with thick files.

Sirius frowned as they both rushed to help before the files toppled out of their arms.

"Emily said we were fighting?" he asked.

"No. But why else would they be so keen to leave you to your solitude on a Saturday night?" Ron grunted, heaving his pile on the island counter before going – predictably – to the refrigerator.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"You're really quite thick sometimes, Ronald," the younger redhead scolded. "Firstly, Remus and Emily don't need to have an excuse to be alone together."

"And Sirius and Hermione don't necessarily need to be fighting to require privacy," Luna added.

Harry scoffed, brushing a lock of his unruly hair out of his eyes.

"What else would they be doing, eh?"

"What else indeed," Ginny replied, a sparkle in her eyes similar to Emily's showing her amused curiosity as she glanced at the couple in question.

Hermione ignored it as she surveyed the files.

"Kingsley said he had a _few_ files to go over," she said, her tone stating that her idea of "a few" was vastly different than the Head Auror's.

Ron shrugged, turning to them as he held the refrigerator door open.

"He just kept handing them to us. Seems like he wanted to make sure you had enough research for the two weeks we'll be away. I'm not sure this is enough, but he doesn't know you as well as we do." He gave a grin, and Hermione knew that he was remembering their Hogwarts days and her voracious appetite for learning.

By those standards, Hermione didn't blame his doubt. Or, at least, she tried not to as she pushed away the knowledge that there were now other things she had a voracious appetite for.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing separate things tonight?" Sirius asked the quartet. "Bad luck to see the bride and all?"

"Nah. Don't believe in that superstition. Besides, since our hen and stag dos had to be pushed 'til after the honeymoon, we figured what's one more break with tradition?" Harry replied. He tried to sound blasé about it, but Hermione caught the bitterness underneath.

"I'm sorry it's happening this way, Harry. I really am," she said softly, involuntarily leaning into Sirius as he put a comforting arm around her.

Harry shrugged.

"I'll get over it. I always do."

"Harry…"

"Don't worry about it, 'Mione. He _will_ get over it," Ginny said, sending a scathing glare to her fiancé.

Sirius chuckled.

"Whether he wants to or not, eh, Ginger?"

She grinned, but the smile didn't quite reach her hazel eyes. Clearly, none of them were particularly happy with the situation, which made Hermione's guilt about it rise dramatically.

"Well, regardless of everything, we're still getting the better end of the stick than you did, 'Mione," Ron said, his voice muddled as he rifled through the contents of the refrigerator. "I mean…at least we're marrying people we actually _love_."

Hermione felt Sirius tense beside her as both Ginny and Luna heaved heavy sighs, casting apologetic glances at the couple for both men's sheer lack of tact.

"We're heading out for some supper," Harry continued, slightly confused by the spike in tension in the room. "You two wanna join us?"

"No, thanks, Harry," Hermione replied. "I'm…not very hungry."

"Okay. Sirius? Wanna join our last night as free men?"

Ginny gave an indignant scoff, but Sirius shook his head.

"No thanks, Harry. I think I'll stay in. Keep my wife company."

Realization started to dawn on Harry's face but Ron, who had emerged from the refrigerator half of Emily's left-over peanut butter and jam sandwiches, looked puzzled.

"Really?"

Ginny rolled her eyes as Luna sighed.

"Don't poke a sleeping bear, Ron," she said in her light, ethereal tone.

"A what?"

"It means let's go," Ginny said, swooping in an steering her brother toward the door. "I do need to get _some_ beauty sleep before tomorrow." She pushed him into the hallway. "See you two tomorrow," she added, giving Hermione a small smile that managed to be both empathetic and apologetic at the same time before disappearing.

Harry gave the couple a long look before smiling slightly.

"We'll see you in the morning. Have a…good night," he said, his voice laden with subtext, before giving a small, contemplative shake of the head and following Luna into the hallway and out of the house.

There was silence once more.

"Sirius…" Hermione started to say, but he interrupted.

"I know you're not hungry now, but I'm sure you will be later. Why don't you start on those files and I'll get some take out?" He was already walking to the door as he said it.

"Sirius, please."

He stopped, but he didn't turn to look at her.

"I had almost forgotten why we had to get married in the first place," he said softly. "I think you…we…should go through those files. The more research we get done, the closer we get to ending this war and going back to…normal."

Hermione felt something stab deeply into her heart.

"Do you want that?" she asked softly. "Do you…do you want to go back to the way it was before?"

She heard him swallow, and he turned to face her with a face so conflicted that she almost didn't want to hear the answer.

"I don't know anymore, Hermione," he said. "But more importantly…I don't think…I don't think I can handle _your_ answer to that question right now."

Then he left, and for the life of her, Hermione didn't understand why that answer hurt so much.

* * *

_Apologies for the delay! Thank you for reading!_

_I hope you liked it!  
_


	32. Chapter 32: An Acknowledgment & a Clue

**A/N: **I figured, you know, since I was updating & everything, I might as well update this one. It's not like a lot of people read it or even enjoy it, but I like it, so I added another chapter.

*note - above sentences should be read & digested as sarcasm*

I know it's been awhile since I've updated this one, but rest-assured, it's still my favourite WIP. This chapter's fairly short, but it covered ground that needed to be covered & gave an inch of a step towards that gaggingly-happy ending everyone seems to want.

Also - again - this is unbeta'd. I've edited it myself, but I'm sure I've missed a few things. As this is not a professional publishing forum, however, I really don't want them pointed out. If it's incredibly incoherent, let me know via PM. Otherwise, just deal with the few misspellings & grammar, k?

Thanks!

**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Two: An Acknowledgment & a Clue**

The next day found a layer of pristine white snow on the ground for the dual weddings, and the tents in the Burrow's gardens glowed with the subtle hint of warming charms. Though there was snow, the air was mild and Sirius watched as revellers walked among the carefully-shovelled paths amidst the brave children who frolicked, their delighted squeals occasionally piercing the air as a snowball from a pair of precocious older twins sailed through the air to collide with an unsuspecting garden gnome.

Sirius's mood was not up for matching the tone of the festivities, in spite of the small amount of pride he felt for his godson as Harry danced with his new bride, giddy grins on four newlyweds' faces. Their joy, however, could not lighten the weight Sirius felt on his shoulders as he thought of the night before and how, in a moment of crippling vulnerability, he had almost destroyed any hope he had ever entertained about being loved by such a woman as Hermione Granger.

As they had throughout most of the day, Sirius's eyes found his wife in the crowd of happy guests. She was a vision in midnight blue, the silk of the bridesmaid's dress clinging to her body in a modest, understated cut that both complimented her figure while still leaving plenty to the imagination. That aspect, however, was the last thing on his mind as he took a sip of his firewhisky and thought back, for the hundredth time, to the night before.

He had been cruel when he had walked out of the house. He had known it the minute he had closed the heavy oak door behind him. He knew that her feelings toward him had changed – even developed – from where they had been only two months prior. Yet he had been so caught up in pretending that _he_ was the only one in love; that _he_ was the only one at risk should things go back to "normal," that he had allowed himself that calloused moment of self-indulgent doubt he had left her with.

He had gone to get food, working on the most sincere apology he could think of as he fought the growing London chill back to the house. It was all in vain, however, as the sounds of a furiously scratching quill were the first sounds to greet him through the door. He didn't have to go into the library – the beautiful wood-panelled room she had commandeered as her personal study – to know she had taken all of Kingsley's files and gone into academic mode. So, putting the food in the refrigerator for later, Sirius had gone up to the bedroom with the pretence of an early night.

He tossed and turned for hours, sleeping fitfully for the few moments of sleep he was able to catch. Even when Hermione had joined him in the early hours of the morning – her petite body curling comfortably against him as if nothing had happened – he could not find peace. He contented himself with watching her sleep, and marvelling how big an idiot he truly was for even considering that she might love him back.

"Smile, sunshine, it's a party, not a funeral," a voice suddenly said from his right, and Sirius jumped slightly at the sight of Bill Weasley's tall, slim frame.

"Hi Bill. How's things?" Sirius said, trying to act like he hadn't just spent the past hour and a half staring at his wife across a crowded room.

Bill, however, was not stupid.

"Things aren't too bad. How about you? How's married life treating you?"

Sirius shrugged, trying to play nonchalant but getting the distinct impression that that particular act wasn't fooling anyone anymore.

"It has it's ups and downs," he finally said noncommittally.

"That it does. And I'm sure Hermione makes it easy."

Sirius's eyes immediately scanned the room for the woman in question, finding her in conversation with one of Luna's relatives. He couldn't help but smile slightly at the mixture of polite interest and dubious argument on her face.

"She doesn't make it hard, at least," Sirius finally replied.

Smirking slightly, Bill took a sip of his champagne before giving a contented sigh.

"You know, I remember the precise moment I _knew_ I was in love with Fleur," he said, watching Sirius as the animagus continued to watch his wife. "We were sitting at dinner in a restaurant in London. We'd been dating for maybe a few months. And she was complaining…food, service, work, family…and there was a moment when she just stopped, looked at me, and smiled. In that moment, I realized two things: one, that her real smile – the one that has nothing to do with being part-Veela – is every-so-slightly crooked. The second, though, was…I realized I could sit there for hours, listening to her complain, and I would still be willing to put up with it because that smile…it's got no price, mate."

"Uh-huh," Sirius said, and Bill's smirk grew knowing that the older man hadn't heard a thing he had just said.

"So," Bill asked, watching his friend carefully. "When did you realize you were in love with Hermione?"

"In Venice, making love to her after we…"

It took halfway through the sentence for Sirius to realize what he was saying and to whom. Looking up at his friend, utterly horrified by his admission, he found Bill grinning like an idiot.

"Not a word," Sirius growled softly, conveying the sense of urgency with his eyes. "Not a bloody word. You hear me?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Bill said airily, though Sirius caught a sparkle of mischief in the redhead's eyes that looked a little too familiar.

"No idea?" Sirius questioned cautiously, and Bill smirked.

"Not the first clue. Hello, Mrs. Black!"

Sirius spun around to face his wife, who was making her way towards them as tiny curls escaped the blue silk hair ribbon Ginny and Luna had insisted upon. He hoped neither Hermione nor Bill could hear his heart hammering against his chest as she came closer. He wondered if he would ever get used to how his body reacted to her – both internally and externally.

"Hello Bill. You're looking well. How's everything?"

"Not bad, not bad. Trucking along, you know how it is."

"I haven't seen Victoire today. Is she alright?"

"Oh, fine. Never better. We sent her to stay with Fleur's parents for while. Thought it might be wise while I'm in Australia."

"Oh, yes. I think it might be wise," she said, smiling slightly but Sirius immediately noticed her eyes give away the fact that her thoughts had drifted.

Bill seemed to notice too.

"Look at me, chatting away when there's still so much to do before we take off. Sirius, good talking to ya, mate," he said good-naturedly.

"Likewise," the animagus replied, not at all enjoying the slightly smug tenor in the redhead's voice.

"Hermione, radiant as ever," Bill continued, "And you let me know if this old dog gets up to his tricks again, eh? I'll give him what for."

Sirius suppressed the urge to smack his smirking friend, choosing instead to send the most scathing of glares. To his surprise and delight, however, Hermione gave a light, airy laugh, weaved her arm through Sirius's, and stood on her tiptoes to give him an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"He's been an absolute dream, Bill. Makes being married to him so much easier than originally anticipated."

Bill's smirk softened to a more quietly-satisfied smile, and with a nod, he walked over to where Remus, Kingsley, and Tonks were discussing the logistics for the upcoming trip.

Hermione sighed as she watched the four.

"I know this isn't a very Gryffindor thing to say, but there are definite moments when I'm glad I didn't become an Auror. Is that horrid of me?" she asked.

Sirius, slightly stunned that she was taking such easy confidence with him considering their immediate history, looked at her for a moment before shaking his head.

"Not at all, love," he said, trying not to think of the endearment as an endearment but rather the form of friendly camaraderie he had always used it for. "Not everyone needs to be an Auror to show feats of bravery. Conversely, being an Auror does not necessarily equate to _having_ bravery."

She looked up at him with a small smile.

"When did you get so wise?" she teased.

He chuckled.

"I attribute it to spending most of my time with you, actually."

She let out a small chuckle, turning back to look at the four Order members talking, and Sirius cleared his throat.

"Listen, 'Mione…about last night…"

"Oh!" she said suddenly and turned back to him, eyes shining with brilliance. "That reminds me of something I needed to talk to you about. It's something I've found in Kingsley's files. I've been dying to tell you, but of course you were asleep last night and we were so busy today…oh, but I interrupted you. I'm sorry. What about last night?"

Her look was so ingenuous and filled with excitement that Sirius had to smile. It had been so long since anything had stirred that raw excitement within him – excepting, of course, her – that he decided to save his apology if only to postpone the inevitable dimming in her eyes.

"I…it can wait. What did you find?"

"Well, I found some rather odd patterns in the files regarding the movements and activities of some of the Death Eaters, specifically Selena Selwyn and Alexandra Irons-Mulroney.

Sirius frowned slightly.

"Odd patterns?" he asked.

"Yes. Specifically within the Master's Club. Kingsley has a whole file on the last few known headquarters, the last one being some months back so I doubt it's still there. Since it's the primary place for Death Eaters to socialize, the Order has taken an interest in the comings and goings, and I discovered that Selena and Alexandra _never_ socialized together."

Sirius's frown deepened.

"So?"

"_So_…I did a bit _more_ digging and it turns out that in the past twenty years, Selena and Alexandra have never socialized at all beyond the mandatory balls and cocktail parties."

Hermione looked quite pleased with herself, but Sirius – who for all intents and purposes had considered himself a man of above-average intellect – was at a loss as to where she was going with the information.

She sighed at his blank face.

"Don't you think it's odd that two people who were as thick as thieves in school and were witness to something as monumental as the Potters' murders should suddenly and inexplicably stop socializing?" she pressed.

Sirius shrugged.

"I don't know, Hermione, I mean…people change…"

"_Exactly_," she said, barely restraining her excitement. "They _changed_. You saw the painting. Alexandra, who rarely socializes with Death Eaters anymore aside from Narcissa and Lucius, looked positively apathetic while Selena, who I can state firsthand has absolutely no compassion, looked horrified. What brought on the change?"

Sirius felt a headache coming on.

"Hermione, I'm sorry, but I don't see how…"

"They _saw_ the Cruciatum Transdictum performed. They _know_ what it is. And after they witnessed it, they _changed._ What if…what if they not only _witnessed_ it, they were also a _part_ of it?"

He gave her a sceptical look.

"That's quite a leap, darling."

"Maybe, but one worth investigating, don't you think?"

"You know, Kingsley said we were confined to…"

"Work, home, and _mandatory social functions_. The Ministry's Annual Christmas gala is coming up. As a ranking Ministry employee, I'm expected to attend. Both Selena and Alexandra will be there. Divide and conquer."

Sirius laughed.

"Are you suggesting that Selena and Alexandra are going to divulge classified Death Eater information at a Ministry Christmas party?" he asked almost derisively.

"No. I'm suggesting that we _observe_ their movements with each other, pick off the weaker of the two, and do a little questioning away from prying eyes."

Sirius arched an eyebrow.

"And what are you going to use for persuasion? Slip some Verita Serum in their champagne?"

She shrugged.

"That, or we could take a more…aggressive route. I admit that I feel more than a little compelled to repay to two or three curses I received at their hands."

He smiled slightly.

"That's a little dark and vindictive, Miss Granger," he commented. "Where did this new side of you come from?"

She returned his sardonic smile.

"I attribute it to spending most of my time with you, actually," she teased, parroting his earlier words.

He chuckled.

"Well, I don't know what it says to my character, but I approve."

She grinned.

"I thought you might."

"Oi! What are you two scheming about there in the corner?" a voice floated over and Sirius looked up to see Fred and George approaching them. Their suits were soaking wet, and Sirius had a feeling that the garden gnomes had somehow found their revenge on the mischief-making gingered men.

"Yes," George said, clapping Sirius on the back. "Inquiring minds are a-twitter with curiosity."

Sirius immediately turned to make sure the grinning twin hadn't put anything nefarious on his jacket.

"Leave them be, boys," Bill called over with a chuckle.

"I don't know. They _have_ been talking quite _seriously_," Tonks said, her own grin pasted to her face as she, Kingsley, and Remus all turned their attention to the couple.

"We're only planning a Ministry coup d'état while half the Aurors are in Australia," Hermione joked. "That's all. Nothing major."

Kingsley chuckled.

"Be careful, or we might just let you take over and deal with the mess yourself."

Remus, Bill, and Tonks all chuckled before the four once again resumed their conversation.

"So," Fred said, grabbing a pint of mead from one of the floating trays that passed. "What were you _really_ talking about?"

"Yes, you look quite cosy, huddled so _intimately_ over here," George smirked.

Sirius scoffed.

"If we're not willing to tell the group of Aurors ten feet away, what makes you think we'll tell you nosy sods?" he asked.

"Ah! Perhaps the discussion was more _intimate_ than we originally suspected."

Hermione gave an easy smile and sidled up to the twins.

"I was just enumerating for my darling husband all the deliciously inappropriate things I intend to do to him when we get home."

Her voice had that same husky, seductive, teasing tone Sirius remembered from that fateful Order meeting, and though her attention was fixed on the twins, Sirius could imagine the twinkle of mischief in her eyes and the coy, wicked little smile on those full, kissable lips.

There was a moment of stunned silence from the twins before they both gave broad, lecherous grins.

"Very nice, Granger. Very convincing," George said.

"You're dead sexy when you try for it, you know?" Fred added.

"And sometimes when you don't try."

"_Especially_ when she doesn't try," Sirius said with a small smile.

Hermione turned to face him, a different sort of smile on her face. It was one he hadn't seen before, but in that one moment, he knew it was the most natural, affectionate, tender smile he had ever seen her wear.

And it was just for him.

A few seconds of silence passed before Fred whistled softly under his breath.

"Well, I think we can take a hint," he said, tugging his brother's arm. "C'mon, Georgie. Let's leave the lovebirds to their mooning."

Hermione blushed slightly as the twins walked off, averting her eyes to the ground. Sirius, emboldened by that reaction, took a step forward and tipped her chin up so she could look at him.

"'Mione…I'm sorry," he said softly. "I'm sorry I walked out on you last night…I'm sorry I said what I did…it was unfair and you've been acting so lovely today and…"

"Sirius," she stopped him, placing a finger on his lips with a smile. "First, I'm not acting. I know what happened between us…the emotions and everything…hasn't been easy to deal with. For either of us, really. What you said last night…well, I think we've both been so caught up with the dangers of the present moment that we weren't thinking about what would happen in the future." She heaved a deep breath, and looked steadily into his eyes. "For my part – whatever it's worth – I don't think I could go back to the way it was before."

"Me neither," he breathed.

She nodded.

"Then I think…I think we should keep our minds on what we have to do for the Order while…while simultaneously…_acknowledging_ that we have…feelings…for one another."

Sirius couldn't help but grin at the very academic way she approached the subject.

"I _acknowledge_," he teased, taking a step towards her and pushing a wayward curl out of her face. "That I have feelings for you."

Her eyes glowed with warmth as she gave him that same private, affectionate smile.

"Ditto."

He laughed.

"Ditto?" he said, leaning in. "How romantic."

She chuckled and leaned up, closing the distance and catching his lips with hers in a soft, tender kiss.

"Hey now! Get a room!" a voice called, and there was a general chuckle through the crowd as Sirius felt his wife pull away slightly, admiring the faint blush that bloomed over her cheeks and down her neck.

"An excellent notion, I think," he said softly.

She smiled.

"Yes," she said. "An excellent notion indeed."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it!_


	33. Chapter 33: An Intimate Encounter

**A/N:** *sigh* I suppose, if I must, I shall reiterate this at the very start and hope some of you actually read it.

I WORK THREE JOBS.

*ahem* Therefore, updates may not come as fast as they should. I appreciate people who want an update, and it's flattering to know that you're desperate for one, but please don't just say "Update now!" cuz that's just damned annoying. I'll update when I have the time. It's cold, but it's the truth.

Again, this is unbeta'd by another human being, so don't comment on the spelling and grammar.

Thanks. Enjoy. Oh...and **smut alert** so if that's not your thing...well...tough. :-)

**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Three: An Intimate Encounter**

For what seemed like the millionth time in the brief course of her marriage, Hermione once again found herself in the bathroom, looking at her own reflection. It felt as though centuries had passed since the fateful day when she had said "I do" in the presence of God and everyone. Though reality had put the date only a month earlier, the amount of emotional growth both she and her husband had undertaken rivalled couples who had seen decades together.

And yet, in all that time, Hermione had never been as nervous as she was at that moment.

The two had just barely made it through the send-off of the happy newlyweds before they had taken the first floo out of the Burrow, arriving in Hermione's tidy, if a little cluttered, wood-panelled study. Though there was an anticipatory sexual energy running between them, Hermione had darted into their bathroom as soon as they reached the bedroom, giving the vague but effective excuse of "freshening up."

She had immediately looked in the mirror and silently asked her reflection what the fuck she was doing.

It wasn't that she didn't want to. Lord knew she wanted it, and badly. It was just that she knew she wouldn't be able to hold back if she found herself tumbling into bed with the only man who seemed to make her heart beat faster with his mere presence. She would be giving herself over to her emotions – raw and untethered – for the first time in her adult life.

There would be no character; no script. Just Hermione.

And "Just Hermione" was a character she hadn't played in a long time.

A knock on the door made her jump, and she had to steady herself against the counter.

"Shall I get us some wine?" Sirius asked through the door.

"Yes," she replied definitively. "Yes, wine would be lovely."

She heard his footsteps fade as he left the room and she leaned against the sink, swallowing deep gasps of air. She looked up at her reflection once more, determined to find herself there. She shook her head defiantly, trying to dispel the doubts and insecurities that seemed to plague her out of sheer habit.

"You are Hermione Granger," she told her reflection sternly. "You're a Gryffindor, goddamn it! Pull yourself together!"

Closing her eyes for a long moment, she gave a final sigh and walked out of the bathroom.

* * *

Sirius tried to concentrate solely on what he considered the fairly simple task of opening the bottle of wine in front of him, but found the process entirely more challenging as his hands refused to stop shaking. The third time his fingers slipped, he paused, placing the corkscrew on the kitchen counter and standing very still.

Though he was exceptionally eager to proceed with the planned events, he was not ignorant of the fact that the woman who awaited him upstairs was the first woman he had ever well and truly loved. While this fact alone was slowly becoming less terrifying, it brought into stark reality that the sex was going to be wildly different under those circumstances. He was certain that "different" would equate to "mind-blowingly amazing," he had the profound feeling of uncertainty with how to kick-start the event itself.

He had never, _ever_ been so nervous about sex before.

Once again taking up the bottle opener, Sirius realized that tonight they would be beyond sex. They were officially in the realm of "love-making." He hadn't realized how much analysis that distinction would call for. The concept of making love seemed too pure, too tender, for any of the sexual tricks he had in his repertoire.

Finally getting the bottle open, Sirius took a deep breath trying to steady himself before he even attempted going for the wine glasses. Sex, in all its glorious forms, had always been easy. It had been a physical pleasure – both giving and receiving – that served no other purpose than a momentary high. Now, with their mutual understanding of emotional involvement, sex was no longer a momentary, casual experience. There was meaning behind it, and Sirius was unsure how exactly to approach that.

Momentarily forgoing any attempt to touch something as fragile as glass, Sirius took a swig of wine straight from the bottle. The tart liquid slid smoothly down his throat and in a blinding moment of revelation, he realized that he was not the first, nor would he be the last, man to ever question his own sexual abilities in the face of an ever-shifting, ever-evolving romantic relationship.

Emboldened by this thought, Sirius took two wine glasses from the cupboard and walked confidently back up to his wife.

* * *

Hermione looked up from where she had been perched, rather tensely, on the edge of the bed. Sirius was standing in the doorway, bottle of wine in one hand and two wine glasses in the other. He had rid himself of his shoes, socks, and outer robes, and Hermione once again marvelled at how gorgeous the man was. As he strode over to the dressing table to put the glasses down, Hermione felt the silence press in on her, heightening her unease as her heart pounded against her chest.

Her hand shook slightly when he handed her the glass, plum-red drops of wine sliding down the outside of the glass and sliding over her fingers.

"Nervous?" he asked with a smile, taking a sip from his own glass.

"I…a little, I suppose," she admitted with a small, anxious chuckle, sipping carefully from the glass and finding the wine calmed her nerves slightly. "It's just…I think this is the first time that I don't know…I don't know what to do."

He couldn't help but arch an eyebrow, and Hermione blushed.

"I mean…I mean, I don't know how to _play_ it," she clarified. "I mean…are we going to be all serious and play this like a drama, or are we going to start laughing…and this whole thing is farcical if you look at it on the outside…though admittedly it's slightly tragic that we…"

She was stopped by his finger to her lips, a gentle smile on his face as he took the wine glass from her hands and placed it with his own on the table before moving to sit beside her on the bed.

"I was hoping we would just…play," he said softly, lifting his hand and caressing her cheek, leaning in and gently pressing his lips to hers.

The first kiss was experimental; barely a brush of lips as their eyes fluttered closed. But it had been so long, and the sensory memory of the few, passionate, stolen kisses between them took over and he cupped her chin as he deepened the kiss, she following his lead by winding her arms around his neck and running her fingers through his hair. Their mouths moved together perfectly, tongues duelling as fear and nervousness gave way to the passion and glorious anticipation they had shared during their honeymoon.

Sirius savoured every second, delighting in how soft and full Hermione's lips felt against his. He found himself once again falling into the taste of her, the tantalizing spice of her lingering on his tongue as he held her close to him.

Hermione groaned in displeasure when his lips left hers, but it was quickly replaced by a contented sigh as his kisses traced a path over her chin and down her neck. She swallowed hard as he paused to take a lingering lap at the hallow at the base of her throat, the slight stubble upon his chin giving a slight, delicious scratch on her skin. The heat of his breath on her body made her shiver as she filed every millisecond away in her memory.

He took his time on her neck and shoulders, and by the time he even reached the zipper of her dress, she was panting. She wanted nothing more than to have him rip the damn thing off her, but his movements stayed maddeningly slow. As he lowered the zipper, she could feel his fingertips sliding down her back.

It was the singularly most sensual thing that had happened to her body in a long time.

Gazing into her eyes, he lowered the straps down her arms, slowly revealing the tops of her heavenly breasts. Though still semi-enclosed in the soft grey satin of her bra, Sirius's mouth almost watered just at the sight of them. He bent down, ghosting his lips over the mounts of flesh just peeking out of the lace trim. He revelled in the sigh that escaped her lips; in the way her head dipped back to expose the beautiful length of her neck. He let his fingertips brush over her arms as he pushed the straps of the dress off, feeling every goose bump along the way.

Once her hands were free, Hermione moved to work at the buttons of his shirt, letting her fingertips brush his skin at every opportunity. He allowed her exploration, his hands simply caressing her skin as she pushed the shirt over his shoulders. Her fingertips traced the outline of his tattoos, pausing in the removal of his shirt to commit every line, every curve of ink, to memory. As she pushed the cloth down and off his arms, she felt the definition of muscle under his skin and the strength he hid behind that hard flesh.

Their lips found each other again, deeper and more needful than before. Her hands wound around his body, her palms splayed over the smooth expanse of his muscular back. He slowly slid her dress down her body, letting it sit at her waist as he ran a gentle finger up her stomach, feeling her quiver and gasp as he cupped her breast, his thumb tracing the lace-covered edge.

Slowly, they fell back against the pillows, still kissing as Sirius pushed the dress over her hips and down her smooth legs, his fingers caressing every inch of skin he could manage as his lips never left hers. There was an impatience to the way she kicked the dress off, shifting restlessly beneath his overdressed body. Running her hands down his chest with purpose, she unbuttoned and unzipped the black trousers that soon found themselves joining the dress on the floor.

He pulled back slightly, bracing his weight on his elbows as he looked into her eyes.

"You are so…unfathomably beautiful," he said, dismissing the fact that the words were so terribly cliché as he kissed softly.

She smiled sheepishly.

"Ditto," she teased, and he smiled.

In the wake of so much time spent avoiding kissing, their lips seemed perpetually glued as Sirius slowly unclasped her bra, pulling back to watch as she pulled it off, revealing those magnificent breasts that sat before him like two delicious ivory apples. He cupped one gently, loving – in the purely masculine, possessive way – how it seemed to fit perfectly against his palm. He caressed them, softly brushing his thumb across her nipple. She gave a breathy gasp and he groaned, leaning down to take the dark nub into his mouth.

Hermione gave a sharp cry, arching her back as bolts of electricity shot straight down to her core. She had never been so turned on by someone, and the feeling of his tongue making slow, torturous circles around her nipple had heat pooling down between her thighs. She wanted to feel his hard length pressing against her, and she opened her legs wider, wrapping them around his torso and squirming to try and feel the pulsing hardness of him against her most intimate spot.

Sirius groaned, releasing her nipple with a wet 'pop', his cock twitching at the taste and smell of her. His control had been frayed from the moment they had started, and though he knew that prolonging the event would be hell, he wanted to make sure that she would never, _ever_ forget that night.

Kissing down her quivering stomach, he rolled her underwear down her legs, fingertips still lingering on her skin but finding himself less patient as the scent of her filled his nostrils and his mouth really did start to water. The heady scent of her arousal was intoxicating, and once he had divested her of her panties, he spread her legs wide, gazing unabashedly at her wet heat.

Hermione gave a shuddering breath, closing her eyes as she felt Sirius's tongue slowly making its way up her inner thigh. She had rarely allowed men to do this for her, finding the act too intimate for comfort. But with Sirius, she ached for it. She wanted to feel his lips on her most sacred area; to feel the delicious torture of his tongue against her throbbing clit. Her body was one tense nerve ending and she wanted to come undone with the feel of his mouth pressed to that spot she had denied so many others.

Sirius let himself enjoy her small pants of anticipation for just a moment longer before parting her folds and taking a long, delicate lick. She gave a high keen, hips bucking slightly. He groaned, letting his tongue lap up the taste of her. It had him immediately addicted. All he could think about was her, and how ravenous he suddenly was for her. His tongue circled the trembling bundle of nerves, inserting a finger into her tight, wet heat to find the spot within her that would bring her tippling over the edge. Curling his finger, he groaned as she gave a cry of sheer ecstasy, cumming hard against his willing lips.

Hermione felt pleasure overtake her and she cried his name, body quaking as he brought her to her peak. Waves broke upon her and she couldn't breathe for a few seconds. Her thighs clamped around his head, small trembles tingling through her at the feel of his hot breath on her. Closing her eyes for a moment, she felt a blissful languor consume her and she let her legs fall limp at his sides, watching with a lazy smile as he sat back on his heels, licking his lips as he watched her.

He let the taste of her settle on his palette, eyes skimming up and down her body as he watched her descend from her climax. Her skin was flushed, glowing with a thin sheen of sweat and her breasts heaved as she let her breath steady. In that moment, seeing her so contented and satisfied, Sirius knew that this was the woman he truly and honestly wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

"Hermione," he whispered, kissing up her body and looking deeply into her eyes.

She gave a contented sigh.

"Make love to me, Sirius."

With a groan, he released himself from his boxer briefs, kicking them off and settling himself between her thighs. He watched her as he hovered over her, wondering how on earth he got so lucky. Leaning down, he let his lips ghost hers as he guided himself to her entrance. Pulling back to watch her again, he pushed in slowly, his eyes drifting closed as he sank into her tight, wet heat, gripping the sheets to control himself.

"Sirius…" she breathed.

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling every inch of the utterly amazing stretch Sirius caused within her. She could feel the pulsing velvet hardness of him, and as he started to rock his hips, she felt the friction of his cock against her inner walls. She wanted it; craved it; needed the drive and force of that sinfully well-endowed organ deep within her.

"Harder, lover," she moaned, once again winding her legs around him, opening herself more to his thrusting body.

Sirius let out a long his as he thrust harder, trying to hold back but finding the massaging, quivering heat of her walls dangerously torturous. He wanted to make it last – to make her cum over and over and over again – but everything was too intense, too intimate, to warrant that level of self-control.

"Fuck…" he cursed as he felt her body roll with his, sucking him deeper with her. He gripped the sheets as he tried to keep his rhythm, burying himself over and over again within her and watching – always watching – the look of passion and borderline madness that sparked on her face just before she fell over the edge.

"Kiss me," she begged when he changed the angle and started to hit that spot within her that had her toes curling and her back arching, pressing her body more intimately against his. She was so close, the deep coil within her body tightening with every thrust.

Sirius bent down and kissed her deeply, groaning against her lips as he felt her walls tighten, the sensation almost breaking him then and there. She pulled away gasping, and he ran a hand down the centre of her body.

"Hermione…please…" he begged, finding her clit and running his finger over it as he felt his body start to shake.

"Sirius!" she screamed, legs squeezing tighter as she came hard, body shaking and back arching, her nails digging into his skin as she was thrown head-first into a world of swirling, unexplainable ecstasy. Her skin sang and her muscles tensed before the glorious release that had her falling, falling, falling into a tingling space where she heard and saw and sensed nothing but her own unbelievable pleasure…

"Oh God…" Sirius groaned, the feeling of her walls clamping down around him too much to bear. Delving his fingers into her hair, he pulled her up for a deep, passionate kiss as he came, body jerking as he let himself go and gave in to the unknown intensity that had him clawing at the sheets, the feeling of her body cumming around him and her nails raking against his skin pitching him forward as he gasped for breath. He had never felt anything quite like it. Stars burst in front of his eyes. Sounds of pleasure broke through their joined lips and crashed over them.

When the intensity left him – shaking and panting – Sirius let himself collapse, unable and unwilling to move.

As their breathing settled back to normal, Sirius allowed himself a glance at the face of the woman beneath him. He was shocked to find her staring at the ceiling, a single tear leaking from her eyes and slowly tracing a path down her otherwise serene face. Alarmed – and more than a little frightened by all the worries he was suddenly having regarding his sexual prowess – he quickly rolled off of her, turning immediately to face her again.

He found her watching him with that tender, gentle smile he knew was reserved solely for him.

This, if anything, increased his confusion.

"'Mione…love…why are you crying?" he asked, letting a tentative hand run over her damp cheek.

She blinked, startled.

"Am I crying?" she asked, bringing her own hands to her face before marvelling at the wetness on her fingertips.

"Why…" he started but she gave a joyous laugh and threw her arms around him.

"Thank you," she whispered, kissing all over his face and neck. "Thank you so much, my darling."

Thoroughly perplexed, Sirius gently extricated himself from her embrace, though he kept a loving hand on her hip to stop any silly suspicion of rejection.

"Not that I'm complaining for the thanks," he started. "But humour me and pretend that I don't know exactly what you're thanking me for? Though, if it was for the sex, I assure you it was a pleasure and I certainly hope we can repeat it…"

He was cut off by her finger to his lips, her smile never faltering as she cupped his cheek affectionately, giving a great, contented sigh.

"I love you," she said softly. "Have for awhile, I suspect. And tonight you've unlocked…oh, I don't know…_something_ within me that allows me to _feel_ again. To feel and love in a way I haven't been able to my whole life. I love you, Sirius Black. And you don't have to say it back, but just know…"

"I do," he interrupted, sitting up on his elbow to look down at her. "I do love you. Ever since…fuck, ever since you apparated into the Shrieking Shack with Draco…no, before that, even. But I love you too, Hermione." He looked into her eyes and smiled sheepishly. "I thought it would feel weird, saying it aloud. But I feel…lighter. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love…" But her lips cut him off as she pulled him down to her, allowing him to collapse once more upon her soft curves, both of them filled with an indescribable elation as they melted into each other.

* * *

In another part of the country, a hooded figure appeared along the hedged driveway of Malfoy Manor. All was eerily quiet, as no living thing dared disturb the unnatural silence that followed the man who walked among them. Even Lucius's white peacocks stood frozen, waiting, it would seem, for the hooded figure to pass before allowing a ruffle of feathers.

When the figure reached the doors, a careless wave of a wand threw them open, and he walked inside.

Bellatrix Lestrange gave a shuddering breath, eyes closed as her sister and the Death Eaters congregated around her. Only one of them could guess the reason why they had been summoned that night, and he stood in the corner, a fear he had not felt in years creeping up his pallid spine beneath his crisp black teacher's robes.

The hooded figure entered without invitation, stopping in front of the bed as everyone bowed and averted their eyed. Lowering his hood, Lord Voldemort regarded the faithful servant before him, watching without a hint of emotion as she clung desperately to her thread of life. Bellatrix opened her eyes, her gaze falling on the blood red slits that gazed coldly at her.

She smiled, reaching out a weak hand.

"Master…"

Her hand fell, limp. Narcissa sobbed. Lord Voldemort looked around, murderous.

"I want that filthy little Mudblood in my presence within a fortnight," he hissed, his voice cold and high-pitched. "I do _not_ expect you to fail me again."

And with a swish of his long black robes, he left the room.

* * *

_Yes, I know, another cliffhanger. What are you going to do with me, eh? LOL_

_Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it._


	34. Chapter 34: A Moment of Truth

**A/N: **I cannot even begin to apologize to the delay. All I can say is that when you're in your mid-twenties & don't have the money to spend 100% of your time writing, things go by the wayside in favour of work. This is one of those things.

Thank you to Amy, who has never given up on me no matter what. And to the lovely reviewer, **madhatterette**, who reminded me that this is a fic worth pursuing.

**And thank you, dear reader, for giving this fic a chance.**

* * *

**Chapter 34 – A Moment of Truth**

"He's back."

Of all the words Hermione could ascribe to her dour former Potions professor – and there were a fair few – the word 'terrified' had never been among them. Therefore, the fact that Snape stood before them all looking thoroughly terrified as he spoke those two words leant more to the gravity of the situation than anything he could have possibly communicated verbally.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Well," George said, the cheer in his voice almost masking the tremble. "About bloody time then, in'it?"

There was a smattering of nervous chuckles but they died quickly.

"While I appreciate the attempt at levity, George, I'm afraid the situation is rather grave," Remus said solemnly, though he cast a kind smile at the twin for his effort. "This isn't, after all, the most advantageous moment for us, what with eight of our number out of the country.

"And there isn't a question of bringing them back early, either," Mr. Weasley added as a few sounds of protest started to rise. "If Lord Voldemort is back, the safest place for Harry to be is abroad. They'll be back soon enough as it is."

"As such, it then comes to us to come up with a plan of attack to protect Harry from Lord Voldemort when he does return," Remus concluded.

"Though I agree that Potter's safety is paramount, I am bound to report that it is Miss Granger, and not Mr. Potter, whom the Dark Lord is most anxious to capture," Snape said quietly, dark eyes fixed upon his former pupil with a mixture of pity and fear.

"Me?" Hermione said in surprise. "Why on earth would he want me?"

"Though I myself have asked the same question, I could not tell you the answer," he replied sarcastically, his fear shifting to his normal attitude of snide superiority in order to hide the vulnerability they had all just witnessed.

Sirius bristled.

"Now listen, you snivelling worm of a…"

"Sirius, you're not helping," Hermione interrupted, placing a soft hand on her husband's elbow as he moved to stand. Growling softly, Sirius stayed seated, glaring at his smirking nemesis.

"Has the savage beast finally been tamed? Matrimony seems to suit you, Black. Tell me, does she pet you when you behave?"

"I'll show you savage, you spineless piece of…"

"Really? _Really_?" Hermione shouted as Sirius started to leap over the kitchen table toward Snape. "Sirius, he only does it because he knows you'll react and for God's sake, Severus, I would have thought that by now you were above petty schoolyard insults!"

She stood, all eyes riveted because though she was considered the brightest witch of her age and submitted valuable opinions at meetings, Hermione rarely raised her voice.

The exception, of course, being the day she discovered she was to marry Sirius.

And perhaps after the engagement party.

But two outbursts in as many months after years of even-tempered discussion still marked enough of a novelty to warrant attention. Especially when her outburst was directed at the quarrelling pair, neither of whom had been chastised quite so vehemently and without humour in public.

"The last thing we need is internal bickering," she said, taking Sirius's hand. "I'm not going to say that I'm not frightened by the prospect of Lord Voldemort's wrath but since it seems to be aimed towards me, let's come up with a rational solution to get rid of it, shall we?"

There was a reluctant murmur of approval and Hermione looked at Sirius. He was gazing at her as if he hadn't really seen her before. She realized that, in this whole situation and despite strong, continual evidence to the contrary, Sirius had always seen her as someone to be protected. Now, he was seeing her in a new light – or at least a _newer_ light. He smiled at her and squeezed her hand. They sat and looked expectantly at Remus and Mr. Weasley.

"Right," Remus said as Mr. Weasley gave Hermione a proud smile. "First course of action is to figure out why Hermione is so valuable to Lord Voldemort."

"It's gotta have something to do with the _Cruciatem Transdictum_, doesn't it?" Sirius asked. "They want her because, in many ways, she's exactly like Lily Potter."

All eyes snapped to him, including Hermione's.

"Am I?" she couldn't help but say.

"Yes," Remus answered with a small smile. "You are. And Sirius, that is a remarkable point. But we don't know anything about the _Cruciatem Transdictum_ or even what it really does…"

"The _Cruciatem Transdictum_ is a myth," Snape interjected, eyes sweeping over everyone as heads turned to him. "To my knowledge, it's never been performed."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Severus…" Mr. Weasley started but Snape suddenly rounded on him, his eyes bright with understanding and building rage.

"Are you saying," he hissed softly. "That the Order has known of the use of the _Cruciatem Transdictum_ and no one thought to ask _me_?"

"It's…it's slightly complicated, Severus," Remus tried to explain.

"You didn't tell him?" Hermione asked, and Snape's eyes fell on her.

"Tell me what?"

"Severus…"

"Tell me _what_, Miss Granger?"

"Severus, please…" Mr. Weasley started, but a glare from Snape stopped the words.

"Hermione," he said slowly, his eyes boring into hers. "What aren't they telling me?"

Hermione took a deep breath.

"We think…we think Lily Potter may have been killed by the _Cruciatem Transdictum_ and not the Killing Curse as previously believed," she replied softly.

"It's just speculation," Remus added quickly. "Hermione, those paintings don't mean anything other than what was seen through the eyes of the painter.

"What paintings? What are you not telling me?" Snape snapped, murder in his eyes.

"Sirius and Hermione found dark art paintings while they were in Venice, Severus. Enrico smuggled two of them back. They depict the death of the Potters but it's not absolutely certain…"

"Not _certain_? Did it not occur to you _fools_ that I might _know_ for certain?"

"No, Severus, it did not occur to us, which was poor judgment, very poor judgement _indeed_, that no one told you about this sooner," Hermione said calmly, shooting glares at Remus and Mr. Weasley. Both men had the good grace to look shamefaced.

Sirius, however, seemed defiantly unapologetic.

"So?" he said crossly. "What is it, then, this _Cruciatem Transdictum_?"

If looks of hatred had the power to kill, Hermione would have been a widow in that moment. She had never seen a look so full of anger on Severus Snape's face before.

"I want to see the paintings," he said quietly.

Remus sighed.

"Severus, it won't do a bit of good if you go off on some ill-conceived vendetta…"

"I want…to see…the paintings," Snape seethed, grabbing the werewolf's collar and pulling the much taller, much stronger man towards him. "Where are they?"

"We can't have you gallivanting off…"

"_I want to see them!_" Snape shouted, madness starting to seep from his face.

It was the single most terrifying thing Hermione had seen.

"I'll take you to them," Hermione said, standing. "I'll take you to them if you promise me you'll tell me what the _Cruciatem Transdictum_ is."

"What? No!" Sirius cried. "We can't let you go _alone_ with him to…"

"Nobody seems to understand the staggering amount of danger Severus has put himself through for us," she said. "I was unaware all of you were still so untrusting of him. Had I known I would have given you all what for. Especially you, Remus. Frankly I'm surprised at you."

Remus's nostrils flared.

"Hermione, it's not your decision how the Order is run…"

"It's not solely yours either, Remus. We are a group and like it or not, Severus is a member of the Order. Dumbledore trusted him implicitly and it's paid off in spades. I for one take full responsibility for my part in forgetting that we have such a great reference in Severus, and I hope one day he will forgive my error, but right now we have a pressing mystery that involves my life and I would like to solve it. So I will take Severus to the painting. Are we clear?"

There was dumbstruck silence for a moment before Mr. Weasley nodded.

"Good. Sirius, please let them know we're coming. I'll be home in time for supper."

She grabbed her cloak and kissed her sullen husband on the cheek. Then she motioned for Snape to follow her and swept wordlessly out the door.

* * *

The Unforgiveable paintings had been stashed away with Enrico and Draco, and so half an hour later, Hermione and Snape were walking down a snow-covered path in the little-traversed foothills to the north of Cardiff. It was a testament to Snape's anger and resolve that he hadn't uttered a word the entire time up until that moment.

"That was quite surprising," he said as they navigated the tricky Welsh countryside, careful to sidestep a patch of stinging nettles.

Hermione, lost in her own thoughts, didn't catch on right away.

"What was?" she asked.

"Your little speech in front of the Order. It was surprising."

"Was it the fact that I managed to be coherent that surprised you, or the fact that my coherence was directed in your defence?"

He gave a slight chuckle, which surprised her because it was the first time she could remember hearing him chuckle with mirth rather than sneer in mocking jest.

"The shock that you defended me goes without saying. Yet it was actually the tone and tenor that surprised me. Usually your outbursts are juvenile at best and thoroughly insufferable at worst, but today there was some…maturity. It surprised me."

Hermione smiled slightly.

"Don't look now, Severus, but I think there's a compliment in all that rhetoric."

He scoffed.

"Hardly. One show of maturity hardly makes you less of an intolerable little know-it-all."

Hermione sighed.

"Yes, well, this intolerable little know-it-all now knows that you've had a positive thought about her, in spite of your ceaseless ingratitude," she huffed before hurrying ahead.

She crested the hill to see a ramshackled cottage half-hidden at the edge of a dense wood. She closed her eyes, inhaling a deep breath of cold air. She could feel the magic hanging around her as she waited for her companion to catch up.

"This is where they are?" Snape asked incredulously.

"No," she said softly, opening her eyes. "This is what they want you to see."

Right before their eyes, Enrico materialized out of nothingness. He had his wand trained on Hermione.

"Password?"

She smiled, ignoring Snape's mumbling protest at how passwords were juvenile and easily breakable.

"_Nunquam sanctimonia vincit_," she said, admiring Draco's humour at the twist on his own family motto. "And it's good to see you, Enrico."

The two shared matching grins before hugging. Pulling away, Hermione introduced Snape to the younger man and Enrico motioned for them to follow him into the valley toward what now appeared to be a very homey country cottage.

"Sirius sent a message you were coming with professore Snape. I must admit, the way I heard him spoke about in the Master's Club, I was surprised he was working for us."

"He does so with very good reasons, I assure you," Hermione said in a tone that left no room for argument. Enrico knew better than to question it.

"You are Enrico de Medici? Lucius used to be enamoured by you. Said you were the first foreigner he had met in a long time who spoke sense about the world," Snape said mildly, but Hermione could read the suspicion in his tone.

"I assure you, I hated every word I spoke to that man," Enrico said stoutly, gaze challenging Snape to speak otherwise.

Snape didn't reply.

As they approached the door to the cottage, Draco opened it and smiled at them. Hermione smiled back warmly, dutifully ignoring the thick bandage that was still wrapped around his elbow.

"Hello, Hermione. Professor," he said, automatically inclining his head toward Snape.

"Draco," Snape replied, a touch of warmth in his voice. "How are you healing?"

"Very well, sir. Enrico's been most helpful."

Hermione watched the two with interest, wondering if the Potion's master had had an opportunity to witness the relationship between the blond pureblood and the smouldering Italian man. Though she herself was unsure of its exact nature, the look of devotion on Enrico's face and the open gratitude on Draco's made it easy to infer that there was more than friendship between them.

"I've brought Severus to look at the paintings," Hermione said and Enrico nodded, leading the older man deeper into the cramped but tidy home.

"I heard the Dark Lord has returned," Draco said quietly, moving to sit at the kitchen table and motioning for Hermione to join him. "McGonagall is arranging for Enrico to join his father in America."

Hermione nodded.

"It's probably for the best. The farther away he is from all this, the better."

Draco drummed absently on the table.

"He's invited me to go with him," he said.

She waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

"Do you want to go?" she finally asked.

He shrugged.

"I don't know."

She kept her gaze on him and finally he sighed.

"I suppose I do. We enjoy each other's company. I care about him, which is really sort of a…new concept for me. But I can't help thinking that I'm fairly useless with only one arm and I don't want to be a burden on him."

"You're not useless, Draco. You can still wield a wand. Plus, I'm fairly certain Enrico doesn't consider you a burden."

"Not right now he doesn't. But what about a few months down the road, when the thrill of being on the run is gone?" He gave a dark, sardonic laugh. "God, I sound pathetic as a schoolgirl, don't I?"

Hermione chuckled.

"I can relate," she said. Then she took his hand, a gesture she never would have thought possible with Draco only months before, and gave it a squeeze. "I know I'm the absolute last person to be lecturing on how to react to complicated emotions involving relationships but for what it's worth, I think you should go."

Footsteps interrupted any response the blond man was going to make, but his subtle nod before he let go of her hand told her that he would think about it. Enrico appeared a second later, followed by Snape. He looked much paler than usual.

She could tell he had been crying.

"I had to watch it twice," he said hoarsely before clearing his throat. "I can't believe…he _knew_ how I loved her…"

He choked a little and seemed to get his bearings. Straightening his shoulders, he nodded to the two men.

"Thank you for showing these paintings to me," he said stiffly before looking at Hermione. "Miss Granger, please be so kind as to meet me at the Hog's Head in an hour. There are certain things I must acquire from Hogwarts before we speak."

"You promised, Severus," she warned as he marched toward the entryway. He paused and turned back towards her to glare at her. She instinctively drew her wand, concerned by the sheer hatred that was emanating from him.

"I made you no promise," he hissed. "But I will tell you what you want to know. In an hour."

And with that, he spun around and stalked out the door, leaving Hermione with the uneasy feeling that perhaps she had made a mistake after all.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Hermione was sitting in the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmeade, nursing a glass of elf-made wine. It was nearing twilight and the pub was nearly empty save for a few locals sitting at the bar and a shadowy figure in the corner whose hood had been up the entire time she had been there. She had kept an watchful eye on the masked figure, but as the time ticked by, nothing happened and she came to assume that the witch or wizard just wanted to be left alone.

Hermione was nervous. Snape's erratic behaviour, though understandable considering the monumental amount for love he felt for Lily Potter, was so incredibly against character that she had taken a moment or two to entertain the notion that the man may have had a psychotic break. She worried that leaving him alone was a mistake and she was just about to give up and go home when he swept into the pub, a parcel under his arm.

"Are you going to be alright?" she said automatically, but he fixed her with a look of such loathing that she once again felt the need to reach for her wand.

"I'll tell you everything I know about the _Cruciatem Transdictum_," he said. "And in return, you must make me an Unbreakable Vow."

Hermione stared at him for a good minute, reeling at the sudden turn.

"You…you can't ask that of me."

"I can ask what I wish of you. And it is the only way I will tell you about the curse."

"But…surely no one will be willing to bond us…"

"I have found someone," he replied, and with a motion of his hand, beckoned the figure who had been sitting in the corner. As the cloaked person approached, the light caught their face and Hermione gasped.

"Mundungus?"

"'Ello, Miss Granger. Or is it Mrs. Black now?" he rasped, an unpleasant sneer on his face.

Hermione looked at Snape.

"Severus, surely you can't trust _him_ to do this," she pleaded.

"I don't have to trust him. He knows what I can do to him. Fear and coin are motivation enough."

"But after what he did to Sirius, and Remus and Harry and Ron…"

"Your precious mutt 'ad it coming," Mundungus snapped. "Fink 'ee can intimidate me in me own territory…"

"Mundungus, be quiet and take out your wand," Snape said before looking at Hermione. "Your hand, Miss Granger."

Hermione looked around for Aberforth, but for the first time in memory, he was not at his usual post quietly observing behind the bar.

"Surely you can't expect me to do this without knowing what I'm agreeing to," she finally said.

Snape's face darkened.

"This is the moment of truth, Miss Granger. You either trust me or you don't."

"Trust has _nothing_…"

"Of course it does. You either trust me to make sure you're not agreeing to anything untoward, or you don't. And if you don't, I'll know that for all your self-righteous posturing today, you're just like all those other hypocritical idiots Dumbledore needlessly trusted."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Hermione slowly gave Snape her hand.

A coil of flame issued immediately from Mundungus's wand, and Hermione knew she no longer had a choice.

"Will you, Hermione Granger, continue to defend Severus Snape to the Order of the Phoenix so long as his actions remain loyal to the cause?" Mundungus asked.

Hermione swallowed.

"I will."

"And will you, to the best of your ability, protect his interests so long as they remain loyal to the cause."

"I will."

"And should he fail in the pursuit of the interests ascribed by him on parchment he will give you, will you take up the tasks yourself?"

Hermione blanched, staring terrified into Snape's dark, unblinking eyes. The heat from the coils around her hand burned her but he held fast. Her heart was pounding. There were a number of interests she would certainly not like to take up, but she had a feeling she knew exactly what he wanted from her and she wasn't sure she would be up for the task.

Moment of truth.

"I will," she whispered.

The coils blazed white then disappeared.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._

_I hope you liked it._


	35. Chapter 35: An Answer& More Questions

**A/N:** Is…is this an update? Within a week? Oh my God, it's a miracle!

Well, yes & no. I'm trying to be good about this. Plus, I know a lot of you hate cliff-hangers & I left you with a pretty nasty one last time. So here you go. Within a week. Have at it.

Also – in order to get out this miraculously-quick update, it remains unbeta'd. So be kind. Especially if you want another update soon.

* * *

**Chapter 35: An Answer…and More Questions**

"Well then," Snape said, gaze still fixed upon her as the quiet din of the pub started to filter back into their consciousness. "Now we know where we stand."

Hermione stared at him.

"Well then, indeed, Snape," Mundungus echoed, a tone of triumph to his voice as he smirked sinisterly at the silent brunette. "I suppose I'll just be going then. After I collect what I'm owed."

Snape moved so quickly that Hermione didn't even realize what had happened until she saw him standing with his wand outstretched, the tip mere inches from Mundungus's temple.

"_Obliviate!_" Snape said clearly and almost immediately a look of bemusement fell on the other man's face.

A few seconds later, the petty crook simply walked away.

"I've erased his memory of our bond," Snape explained, resuming his seat once Mundungus had left the pub. "I've also made sure that he doesn't bother anyone again. He's been struck with the overwhelming desire to travel to Buenos Aires."

Hermione continued to stare at him.

Never in her life had she felt so incredibly filled with rage. Surprisingly, it wasn't the sallow man across from her for whom she held such animosity. It was for herself. Once again, she had recklessly gone against the practical voice of reason and now she was struck cold by the enormity of what she had just taken on.

Only this time, there would be no escape. There would be no treacherous clambering through a decaying passageway toward freedom. There was no bright light at the end of this tunnel. Only the thin, laughably-foolish hope that Snape would let her out of the vow without a monumental sacrifice on her part.

"I suppose you know what I intend to do," Snape said, eyes level with hers as he sat back in his chair.

"You intend to avenge Lily Potter," she said numbly.

"Well, I suppose you've gleaned the most salient part of my intentions."

"Damnit, Severus, I cannot do what you ask of me!" she hissed.

His eyes darkened.

"Can you not?" he asked quietly.

She sighed, looking down at the worn, chipped wood of the table that sat between them.

"If you should fail, you're asking me to…what? Kill Selena and Alexandra? Without a proper trial for their actions? And what if Lily is…"

She hesitated to finish her thought, but he understood her all the same.

"You believe she may still be alive? Kept prisoner, perhaps?"

She was taken aback by the soft, almost pitying tone in his voice.

"No, Hermione. If she fell victim to the _Cruciatem Transictum_ – which, if the paintings hold true, she did – then she is most assuredly dead." He gave a deep sigh, looking up at the ceiling for a moment. "God, it feels like I've had to experience it all over again."

She watched him a moment, letting the momentary paralysis of her emotions flow through her before speaking again.

"What is it, Snape?" she asked, reverting to his surname to build an emotional wall between them. "What is this curse?"

He looked at her for a moment before taking a deep breath and leaning forward, threading his long fingers together and placing his hands on the table.

"A mortal is not merely a mortal simply because he is made of flesh and bone," he said. "A mortal is mortal because he is a delicate balance of mind, body and soul. Without one, the other two cannot function."

"But when a dementor takes a soul, the person still lives," Hermione argued, baffled as to where the direction of the conversation was going.

"Miss Granger, you of all people know the difference between living and functioning."

She said nothing and he continued.

"The Dark Lord knew that he could manipulate the soul of the willing. He had done it with himself, with his horcruxes. He proposed that he could manipulate the soul of the unwilling as well, through pain to the point of weakness.

"During the first war, he had occasion to see the great…talent…that many in the Order possessed. He, rather pragmatically, thought he could harvest it for the cause. Separate them from their talent…the combination of mind and soul…to use for himself."

"Harvest it? But you just said a mortal cannot live without one of the three."

"It's true. A mortal cannot. But at that point, the Dark Lord was more than mortal."

Hermione's brow furrowed.

"But if he found a way to do it, why did he need Selena and Alexandra?"

"Do you remember what happened to Potter in the graveyard your fourth year? When the Dark Lord returned?"

Hermione thought back, wracking her brain for the conversation she had had with Harry about that night. He had not been particularly forthcoming and she hadn't pressed him. Over the years following, the events from that night had become less significant as more urgent events occurred.

Now she wished she had pushed a bit more.

"He said…he said Voldemort had returned through some sort of spell."

Snape nodded.

"A version of the _Cruciatem Transdictum_, or so I'm led to believe," he clarified. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given. Flesh of the servant, willingly given. Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken. It's simpler than the _Cruciatem Transdictum_. He only needed a body. Death was not necessarily needed."

Hermione went cold.

"So…if he wanted Lily Potter's mind and soul, then she was…the enemy. And it was forcibly taken. And Alexandra…the one in the painting…she would be willingly giving him something. The Selena in the painting…she didn't know. Unknowingly given."

"Exactly," he said.

"But…but something happened. Voldemort disappeared that night. He was weakened."

Snape nodded again.

"The process is exceptionally difficult. Once you separate a body from its soul and mind, you need immense control to make sure it gets where it's going. The amount of magic involved makes the ground upon which you perform the magic extremely volatile. If you lose control, you run the risk of wrenching the souls, minds and bodies from the other mortals in the room – reconfiguring haphazardly until control is reached again."

"And Voldemort lost control."

"He must have done. It would explain the personality shift between Selena and Alexandra."

"So, if Alexandra was meant to be the willing party, then her mind must have gone to Selena by accident. And Selena, the unknowing, gave…what? Did her _soul_ go into Alexandra? From what I've seen Alexandra doesn't seem to have a soul."

"You forget, as the Dark Lord did, that there was a fifth person in the room that night."

Hermione blinked, and then gasped.

"Harry?" she breathed.

Snape nodded a third time.

"A child's soul is pure. The purest of all. And in a battle of wills it will always win. My best guess…and it's just a guess…is that when the Dark Lord cast the spell, Lily's protection of her son made everything rebound off him, fragmenting everyone for a few seconds…milliseconds, even. Lily's mind, soul and body, instead of remaining whole and under the Dark Lord's control, simply…shattered. Everything that remained intact – Selena, Alexandra and Potter's mind, body and soul – absorbed the shattered parts and found the nearest host. Because Potter's soul was so pure, it could only belong to a child, so everything childlike, which I'm sure included his mind, went to the only child in the room. Somewhere in those few seconds, Selena and Alexandra's original personalities switched."

Hermione sat back in her chair, thoroughly saturated by this new information.

"And Voldemort?" she finally asked.

"He lost control. He gained nothing. Infuriated, he attacked Potter. The rest, you know."

He, too, leaned back in his chair and looked at her.

"Now, all of this is mere speculation; things I've managed to piece together from my knowledge of the Dark Lord's way of thinking and of Selena and Alexandra's personalities. I did not know them well before that night but I did know that before Lily Potter died, Selena Selwyn was a careless witch without much talent who followed Alexandra around like a puppy. Afterwards, it was the other way around until Alexandra – now with Selena's mind and soul – simply removed herself from our circle. She was kept at a close distance to make sure that she didn't defect to Dumbledore."

Hermione frowned.

"I don't understand. Why them? To my knowledge neither was in Voldemort's inner circle. What changed?"

Snape shook his head.

"I don't know."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh.

"So many bloody questions! Every time I come close to an answer, fifteen more pop up!"

"I think," Snape said, "That this may be a good time to talk to Alexandra."

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"After what she did to me?"

"Think, Miss Granger! Who is the weak link in all of this? Who benefited the least from what happened, if it happened?"

Hermione closed her eyes.

"The real Selena Selwyn."

"Who is now…?"

"Alexandra Irons-Mulroney."

He nodded a final time and if Hermione hadn't known the man better, she would have thought he looked a little proud of her.

"Alexandra is you next logical step, Granger. And since I have said all I need or want to say on the matter, I now give you this."

He slid the parcel he had been carrying with him across the table to her. She had almost forgotten that he'd had it.

"In there are the books you'll need to understanding the magic behind the curse. There is also a file containing my last will and testament, along with the parchment which sets forth what I intend to do and what you will need to do if I should fail."

All of a sudden, the vow came back to her and she felt tension and fear grip her body.

"Severus…what do you intend to do? I need to speak with Selena…I mean, Alexandra…before you kill her."

"I'm aware of that, Miss Granger. You'll understand more once you've read the parchment. I'll leave word in twenty-four hours where you can find me, should you have need of me. Until then," He stood up and bowed his head in a manner of respect he had never treated her to before, "I leave you."

"Where are you going now?" she asked before she could help herself.

For a moment she thought he was just going to leave without saying anything. But after a moment of looking at her in quiet contemplation, he spoke:

"I must pack. I will no longer be safe once you start speaking to Alexandra. There are only a few people who know about this curse. It won't take long for the Dark Lord to know it was me. I will procure a safe house and send word to the Order once I'm situated. I also need to visit Godric's Hollow."

He didn't need to explain why.

Once he left, Hermione ordered some firewhisky. Aberforth was still nowhere to be found, but given that it was a Sunday, she was sure he had taken the day off.

Perhaps that was why Snape had suggested the location in the first place.

Sipping her drink with only the tiniest of winces, she carefully unwrapped the parcel. She bypassed the three, worn leather books and opened the file. There, sitting above the last will and testament of Severus Snape, sat the parchment that spelled out her fate.

It was surprisingly short.

There were only three things written in Snape's familiar, cramped hand:

_1. - Pursue to its natural end all information regarding the nature of the Cruciatem Transdictum and the Death of Lily Potter._

_2. - Find Selena Selwyn and Alexandra Irons-Mulroney._

_3. - Kill them both._

* * *

_Thank you for reading._

_I hope you liked it._


	36. Chapter 36: A Lesson in trust

**_A/N:_**_ It's a short update, but it's an update._

_This is unbeta'd, so be nice._

* * *

**Chapter Thirty-Six – A Lesson in Trust**

It was well into the wee hours when Hermione finally stepped through the threshold of her house. She hadn't been so exhausted since her Hogwarts days, though now that she was five years older she was unsure she would be as quick to bounce back the next morning.

Hanging up her outer robes, she saw the glow of the kitchen light through the hallway and heard movement. Frowning slightly and gripping her wand in her hand, she ventured cautiously toward it, hoping she wasn't going to be required to duel at three o'clock in the morning after the day she'd just had.

"Ah, you're back," Sirius said as she quickly glanced into the room, muscles tense and reflexes poised to leap behind the wall to avoid a launched hex.

Her body immediately relaxed when she saw him, but she frowned as she walked into the room.

"What on earth are you doing awake at this hour?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Is it so much of a surprise that I was waiting up for you?"

She blinked.

"Really?"

He chuckled.

"Concern for one's partner seems to be one of those pesky little by-products of being in love, sweetheart. Though, from the look on your face, I suppose I shouldn't expect you to stay up half the night waiting for me if _I'd_ ceremoniously, yet with an admirable sense of drama, stomped out of an Order meeting sixteen hours before."

She smiled slightly.

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm just not used to the concern."

"There are those who worry about you, darling, including but not limited to me. Now sit. I made sandwiches."

Though she hadn't thought she would be after all the unsavoury information she had digested that day, Hermione found that she was famished. Sitting at the kitchen's island breakfast bar, she almost groaned in relief as she sunk her teeth into one of the best ham and cheese sandwiches she had ever tasted.

"May I assume from the voracity with which you're eating your sandwich that the day has been an eventful one?" Sirius inquired lightly, a small smile gracing his handsome face.

"Assume away," she said between bites.

He chuckled again.

"So what did Snivel-…Severus think about the paintings?" he asked, correcting himself hastily when she shot him a dark look.

"He was duly shaken," she replied, gratefully accepting the bottle of water he handed to her, grinning in spite of herself at the look of distaste he lent to the plastic bottle.

"I spoke with Enrico," Sirius said, sitting across from her. "He said you'd left ages ago."

"I suppose you were concerned that I had fallen into a heinous trap sprung by a disloyal Severus and was dragged to Malfoy Manor to face the proverbial firing squad?" she half-teased, taking a long swig of water.

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Well, fret not. I am as yet unscathed."

"Oh? Then why do you have a scar on the back of your hand that looks remarkably like a scar one would receive from an Unbreakable Vow?"

Glancing down at her hand, Hermione sighed. She had hoped to avoid this confrontation until at least the next morning. She was not in the proper emotional state to have that argument.

Though, in the back of her mind, Hermione marvelled at the fact that Sirius still looked incredibly calm. She had been certain he would explode with indignant rage.

"I…it's an incredibly long and complicated story, Sirius."

He nodded.

"I assumed it would be, considering I respect your intellect and for the most part your judgment. So I am certain that it would have to be an incredibly long and complicated story for you to enter into something so…binding."

She frowned.

"I know you well enough to know that 'binding' was probably not the first word that came to mind. Why are you being so calm about this?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Would you rather I weren't?"

She sighed.

"No…I'm grateful you are…just a little confused. Barring a very large blow to the head, your attitude is slightly against character."

He sighed.

"It's just…I realized something today."

"Did you?"

"Yes."

There was a pause, and she rolled her eyes.

"You wouldn't care to elaborate, would you?" she asked.

"I…I'm not sure how you'll take it."

"Try me. It couldn't possibly be any worse that all the other stuff I've heard today."

He took a deep breath.

"Well…I guess I realized that you're a fighter…that is to say…a truly honed warrior."

She gave a slight smile.

"Why were you concerned with how I'd take that?"

He blinked.

"Well, I…I suppose I was afraid you'd get mad that I didn't…didn't quite think of you that way before."

She laughed.

"I'll admit…had this been a few months ago I probably would have been angry. But right now, I'm tired and I'm emotionally spent and to be honest the only thing that would upset me now was if that sudden realization of yours meant that you were no longer attracted to me."

He smirked.

"Oh no. It's an incredible turn-on."

She returned his smirk.

"Is it?"

He stood and walked around the island counter. She turned her body to face him, her back lounging comfortably against the chrome as she looked at him expectantly.

"As much as the idea of you in Amazonian battle armour inspires many, _many_ erotic scenes in my head, even I can't be distracted from _that_," he said softly, motioning to her hand.

"Unable to distract you with the promise of fulfilling dirty fantasies? I must be losing my touch," she replied with a coy smile, leaning in to kiss him.

He gave her a light peck before pulling back slightly.

"It's a wrench, love, believe me," he whispered. "But we're in this marriage together and I'm concerned about what we've agreed to."

She sighed, turning back to her food.

"He made me a list. It's in the bundle by the door."

As Sirius went off to retrieve the document that held their immediate fate, Hermione mused over her situation, chewing ponderously on her sandwich. Sirius's reaction was a definite relief, but the fact that he was going to be sharing the burden with her gave her pause. Not because, as a strong, independent woman, she was insulted by his interference – though she would be lying if she said she didn't find it a little presumptuous. It was more that she now had to worry that his involvement may lead to his demise.

It was a situation she never thought she would face and it scared her to no end.

"Right, so not to complain right off the bat, but these terms are a little vague," Sirius said as he walked back into the kitchen reading the parchment. Looking up at her, he added, "Did you talk them out in more detail before you agreed to them?"

Hermione braced herself.

"I…er…didn't actually know what I was agreeing to when I made the vow," she said.

He blinked.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You what?"

She sighed.

"He backed me into a corner. He said he wouldn't tell me about the curse unless I made the vow and then he had Mundungus do it—"

"_Mundungus_?" Sirius interrupted.

"Yes, but don't worry. Severus sent him to Argentina."

"Sent him to…Hermione, love, please don't take this the wrong way but have you gone _completely_ off the reservation?"

Hermione took a deep breath and proceeded to tell Sirius all of the things that had happened, from the moment they had left the meeting that morning to the moment she walked in the house. Sirius sat in silence, his eyes getting colder and colder as she told him about Snape's ambush in the Hog's Head and all the elements of the _Cruciatem Transdictum_ she could remember.

"So, essentially, he's just bought himself an ally in the Order. That's just fucking fantastic," Sirius said bitterly, standing and starting to pace in the kitchen.

"What was I supposed to do, Sirius? Voldemort is back and if he's back that means that he's going to stop at nothing to find me and perform this magic again. We don't have time to research and hypothesize what happened. I don't agree with Severus's methods but he's taken the biggest risk of everyone and so…so I took one too because I trust him."

There was a moment of silence before Sirius let out a long sigh.

"I know. I know all this. It's just…_I_ can't trust him. In spite of everything, I know, I just…I can't."

"You can't possibly think he hasn't atoned enough for what he's done."

Sirius remained quiet and Hermione tilted her head slightly.

"What do you know that I don't, Sirius?"

Sirius inhaled deeply, closing his eyes.

"Snape knew where Meg and Amy would be the night they died. Amy…Amy trusted him…didn't believe that he was a Death Eater. We all _told_ her but…" He trailed off, running a hand over his face. "It was before he switched sides. I know I should leave it in the past but…" He looked at her. "You didn't see Remus after Meg died. You didn't see…"

Hermione stood and walked over to her husband.

"I can't convince you to trust him, Sirius," she whispered. "And I'm not going to ask you to. I'm just…I'm asking you to trust _me_."

"I do," he said, nodding as he wiped his eyes. "I do, 'Mione." He let out a deep breath. "And Remus is happy now, right? He has Emily and that seems to be going well so I should just…I should leave it alone."

Hermione smiled slightly.

"Look who's growing up."

He chuckled.

"Don't get used to it," he warned, wrapping his arms around her waist and looking down into her eyes. "So…what do we do with all of this information?"

She sighed.

"I don't know. I can't even think straight. Somehow, we need to get to Alexandra – or the person who looks like Alexandra. We need to talk to her."

"Well, you know where we can do that, don't you?"

Hermione looked up at him, eyes questioning, and he smiled slightly.

"You must be tired if you don't remember. This week is the Christmas gala. It was your brilliant idea to go and…what was it you said? Divide and conquer?"

Hermione smiled softly.

"It's a very bad habit of yours to hang on my every word, you know," she teased.

"Oh, I think I'm suitably arrogant enough to forget most of them again," he replied.

She chuckled, and then yawned, and he smiled again.

"To bed, my lady. I need that brain of yours positively whirring with ideas on how to corner Alexandra and get her to spill her guts whilst in a room full of government officials and other various luminaries of the wizarding world."

"I suppose some veritaserum..." She yawned again. "…wouldn't be appropriate?"

"Aside from it being highly difficult to procure and under incredibly tight ministry regulations, I have a feeling Alexandra may be a bit paranoid about things like that, don't you? I mean, we only knew her as a wedding planner and she was particularly…high strung."

Hermione looked at him with a smirk.

"Ministry regulations? Difficulty in procurement? Be careful, Sirius, because you're starting to sound like me."

He gave her a soft kiss on the forehead.

"There are worse people I could sound like, love," he said. Then he swept her up in his arms, smirking as she squealed. "Now, let's get you into bed."

"Hmm…what were you saying earlier about Amazonian battle armour?" she whispered in his ear as he carried her through the house, nipping lightly on his ear.

"Now now, minx," he said. "Don't start something you don't have the energy to finish."

She grinned, placing soft butterfly kisses on his neck as he started up the stairs.

"I think I may have a little energy left," she whispered.

He chuckled.

"You will be the death of me, woman."

As they entered the bedroom and turned out the light, in the back of her mind Hermione hoped his words would not come to ring true.

* * *

_Thanks for reading._

_Hope you liked it._


	37. Chapter 37: An Opportunity Taken

_**A/N: **Oh dear me. I seemed to have caused a bit of a stir, if my PM inbox is any indication._

_For those of you who have been following my Narcissistic whining regarding some of the responses to my writing, I want to take this opportunity to thank you for all your super-kind words of support & wisdom._

_As we're a full week into a new year (and with that a certain day coming up that reminds me of my own fragile mortality) I'm making this pronouncement:_

_**I am not quitting FFN. **_

_**HOWEVER...**_

_I am disabling the ability for people to leave me anonymous reviews, so that if something unpleasant should be said, I can address it. In my opinion, there's nothing more cowardly than someone flaming a story with an anonymous review. I know sometimes you're too lazy to sign on to review, but if anonymous reviews are enabled, I ALWAYS leave my real penname._

_In conclusion, if you have something nasty to say, grow a pair and leave it with your real penname so I'll have an opportunity to respond to you._

_ON THAT LOVELY NOTE - enjoy the update!_

* * *

**Chapter 37 – An Opportunity Taken**

"How would you categorize your upper body strength?" Hermione called to Sirius from the closet as they were getting dressed for the gala, just a few days after Hermione's fateful meeting with Severus and the Unbreakable Vow.

Sirius poked his head into the closet, brow furrowed.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"I'm just going over everything in my head. In the event the potion works quicker than planned, how's your upper body strength? Would you be able to dance well enough with an unconscious body to throw off suspicion?"

He blinked.

"That's a sentence I never in my life suspected anyone would ask of me."

Hermione looked at him, giving an exasperated sigh.

"Sirius!"

He chuckled.

"Well, providing she's not weighted down with tons of gold and jewellery, I think we'll be fine, kitten."

It had taken almost the full week for Hermione and Sirius to agree on a plan for the Christmas gala, neither quite seeing eye-to-eye on the level of subtlety involved. Unsurprisingly, Sirius was more interested in the hit-and-run aspect of the evening - of dragging Alexandra into a quiet room and forcing whatever she knew out of her - rather than the intricacies of doing so without rousing the suspicions of the hundred-plus guests and countless security measures.

"I'm still not entirely sure we'll have access to the upper floors and I have very little knowledge of the mezzanine's geography," Hermione continued nervously, smoothing a stocking up her leg and struggling with the button to fasten it to the garter.

Sirius, who was watching her with a mixture of amusement and arousal, stepped into the closet with her and paused her in her movements, deftly buttoning the garter around the stocking before running his hand up her inner thigh.

Hermione gasped slightly, the feeling of his hands on her skin still igniting her senses in spite of the amount of time they had spent getting to know each other on every intimate level possible.

"Hermione," he whispered, sinking to his knees in front of her, his slate-green eyes locked on her face. "My love," He kissed her knee, hands still playing with the soft skin of her thigh. "You are worrying entirely too much." He grinned up at her, his lips following the path of his hands. "Relax," he whispered into her skin.

The young witch groaned as he moved closer to his intended target, loving nothing more than to let him pleasure her right there in their closet. Realizing, however, that doing so would make them both late and distracted, she placed her hand on his shoulder to stop his movements.

She smiled sadly as he looked up at her, eyes questioning.

"As much as I'd love for you to finish that," she said, "I'm afraid this takes a slightly higher precedence."

He pouted.

"Spoil sport."

She laughed.

"Considering you've been having your wicked way with me for weeks now, you can't possible begrudge me this one time."

"Hmm...can't I?" he asked with a wink, kissing her navel as he stayed kneeling before her.

She smiled, bending slightly to take his face in her hands.

"We can always finish playing when we get home," she said before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

He sighed, sitting back on his heels as she pulled her gown from its hanger. He watched her step into the flowing champagne-coloured fabric, enjoying the way it clung delicately to her curves. It was a small pleasure of his, watching his wife dress. While he enjoyed watching her _undress _more, the voyeur within him couldn't help but appreciate the glimpse into her routine that he wouldn't have gotten if they hadn't been sleeping in the same room.

"Are you almost ready? Remus and Emily will be here soon," she said as she zipped the side of the gown, smoothing out the skirt before turning to him.

He climbed to his feet.

"I just need my jacket," he replied, buttoning the top button of his crisp white Oxford shirt and pulling lightly at his cranberry-coloured waistcoat.

She smiled, walking over to him and straightening his tie.

"You know, as sexy as I find you in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, you are positively delicious when you dress up," she said, her hands stilling against his chest as she looked into his eyes. "I admit that I was more than a little turned on by you that first meeting we had at the Ministry."

"I must make it more of a habit, then," he teased, placing another soft kiss on her upturned lips.

"Hermione? Sirius? We're here!" a voice called from below, interrupting the tender moment.

Sirius sighed.

"Coming, Moony!" he shouted before looking at Hermione, whose face had turned anxious once more.

He cupped her cheek.

"We're as prepared as we can be, love," he said. "Don't fret."

She smiled slightly.

"You go down. I just need to finish up."

"Alright."

He kissed her once more before walking out.

"You almost ready? We need to be there in fifteen minutes," Remus said as Sirius walked down the stairs, pulling on his jacket.

"Hermione's just finishing up," Sirius said. "You clean up nicely."

Remus looked down at his tuxedo.

"Emily took me shopping on Saville Row. It's amazing how expensive these things are," the werewolf replied, though he seemed pleased.

"Yes, but it will last you for years and you can't put a price on quality. Hello, Sirius. My, don't you look dashing," Emily said, coming out of the kitchen with a bottle of water and smiling at her cousin-in-law.

Sirius frowned at her jeans and t-shirt ensemble.

"Not that I don't find you ravishing under any circumstance, Emily, but I do think you may be a _little _under-dressed for this party," he replied.

"But all the cool kids are wearing these jeans to posh do's," she argued jokingly. Then she sighed. "Unfortunately, I will not be joining you. Muggles aren't allowed, apparently."

"But some of the spouses of Ministry members are Muggles, and they'll be attending," Sirius said, stating the comment more to Remus than Emily.

"Yes, but they're _married_, Sirius, and have been inducted into the Ministry society," Remus replied. "And as charming and lovely as Emily is..."

"We're not married," Emily finished, though her tone suggested that she was merely repeating an argument she and Remus had been having earlier.

"Well...it would be slightly dangerous for an unprotected Muggle to be in same room as some of the people there. Muggles aren't exactly on the favourites list at the moment," Sirius said diplomatically.

"See?" Remus said to Emily, looking slightly triumphant.

"That said...Remus's presence isn't necessarily required so perhaps the two of you can do something else?" Sirius added, avoiding his best friend's eye.

"See?" Emily repeated to Remus, placing her hands on her hips in a move that looked remarkably Hermione-esque.

"I should be there, though," Remus argued. "For security?"

"Moony, mate, I think it may be best for you to sit this one out," Sirius suggested. "After all, werewolves aren't exactly on the favourites list right now either."

"He's just being stubborn," Emily said with a huff.

"I'm not. It's not like I _enjoy _going to these things," Remus replied.

"If you don't enjoy it, then why are you going?"

"I told you. Security."

"Security for people who don't want you there in the first place?"

"I think what Remus is trying to say is..."

"...is that he's just being stubborn," Emily finished, and Sirius couldn't help but grin at the familiar fire that sparked behind her eyes.

"Who's being stubborn?" Hermione asked as she descended the stairs.

"Remus," Emily said at the same time as Remus said "Nobody."

"Help me," Sirius mouthed to his wife, who smiled slightly as she took his outstretched hand.

"Right," she said, looking at the quarrelling pair. "Am I to assume from Emily's outfit that she isn't joining us?"

Emily sniffed.

"Apparently, Muggles aren't allowed," she said.

"Ah. Well, that does make a bit of sense, and I'd hardly want to put you in the potentially-dangerous situation of having to modify your memory should things go wrong tonight," Hermione replied.

"Yes. Excellent point," Remus said smugly.

"Remus, if Emily isn't going, why don't you stay here and keep her company?" Hermione continued mildly. "After all, you're still not one-hundred percent after your attack and I'd hate to give the Death Eaters another chance at you when you're not at your best."

"True. Another _excellent _point," Emily said with an angelic smile to Remus.

"I...but...the security..." Remus stuttered.

"Moony, trust me. You're up against two of them. You're not going to win," Sirius said with a smile and a wink to his wife and her cunning cousin.

"But...I just...oh, _fine_," the werewolf said in exasperation before loosening his tie. "I didn't want to go to the bloody thing anyway."

"Oh good. Makes the decision easier, doesn't it?" Hermione said with a contented sigh, giving her former professor a dazzling smile as she allowed her chuckling husband to help her into her cloak. "Now, Emily, I've set up the television and DVD player in the grey bedroom if you'd like to rent a movie and stay here tonight. There's food in the refrigerator and Remus, I'm sure Sirius has some comfortable clothes you can change into." Grabbing Sirius's hand, she pulled him towards the door, looking back at the staring pair with a smirk. "We'll be back later. Have fun, you crazy kids!"

As she closed the door behind them, Sirius started laughing.

"You really are incredible, you know that?"

She smiled.

"I do try," she replied. "Now, let's go. We don't want to be late."

* * *

The mezzanine hall of the Ministry of Magic had been decorated beautifully with Christmas trees trimmed with tinsel and fairy lights; shining red and gold ornaments, and strands of lush green holly wrapped artfully around the large columns that lined the hall. Witches and wizards, sporting the latest in evening wear, mingled and danced on the gleaming marble floors as floating trays of champagne and hor d'oeuvres weaved in and out of the crowds.

"Wow. They've outdone themselves this year," Hermione mumbled.

"I suppose they want to keep up the appearance that nothing's changed," Sirius replied.

While making the expected social rounds, the pair kept an eye out for Alexandra and Selena in the throngs of revellers. As Hermione had expected, the two were avoiding each other like the plague, with Selena speaking emphatically to a small group that included her husband, Dolohov and Yaxley, and Alexandra standing rigidly in a corner pretending to converse with Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy.

"Only at the Ministry can we see so many known Death Eaters socializing with high ranking political officials," Hermione murmured to Sirius as they circled the party under the auspices of greeting people.

"It's amazing what a government is willing to forgive when the cause of peace is at stake," he replied, hand protectively on the small of her back.

"They're all under surveillance, I hope."

"By the Order. But seeing as most of them are in Australia at the moment, I don't think we should really take much stock in that."

"That is in no way reassuring information," she muttered under her breath, before giving a demure nod to the Minister of Magic and his wife as they walked past.

"Ah! Mr. and Mrs. Black!" a voice said from behind, startling the pair as they whipped around, both suppressing the urge to grab their wands.

A tall, familiar-looking gentleman with silver hair and an air of authority strode towards them, a glass of champagne in hand.

"Oh, er...Mr. Crisp, was it?" Hermione said politely, extending her hand.

The man gave it a disdainful look, barely acknowledging her before looking at Sirius. Hermione's nostrils flared as she lowered her arm back down to her side. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Selena and her entourage chuckle at her expense.

Sirius, however, was not about to let the incident go quietly, as he curled his hands into fists, his knuckles going white as the horrible man started speaking:

"Mr. Black, I've been meaning to get in touch with you..."

"My wife just greeted you with a civility that is entirely undeserved in my estimation, Mr. Crisp," Sirius interrupted, fury in his grey eyes. "You will do well to understand that by marrying me, this woman carries the name of the noble house of Black, as will the children she will carry. If you _deign_to treat her dismissively again, you will feel my wrath and make no mistake, I am not a forgiving man."

Hermione couldn't help the thrill that sped through her at the look of pure terror that crossed Mr. Crisp's face.

"I...I am terribly sorry, Mrs. Black, I do hope..."

"Ms. Granger-Black," Sirius ground out through gritted teeth.

"Yes...of course...Ms. Granger-Black...I...I do hope you'll forgive me..."

Hermione tried to hide her triumph at the look of confusion and then frustration on Selena's face before giving the man in front of her a derisive sniff.

"Don't let it happen again," she said as coldly as she could muster.

"No...of course not," Mr. Crisp said, though his eyes would not meet hers fully.

"Was there something that you needed? Only, my wife and I were trying to enjoy the party," Sirius said.

"Yes," Mr. Crisp said, a little more humility to his tone than before. "It's about your monthly inspection. Your first one is due and I want to schedule it before the holiday."

"Then schedule it, will you, and let us know," Sirius responded impatiently, starting to walk away with Hermione in tow.

Mr. Crisp stopped them.

"I was rather hoping we could settle it tonight..."

"I don't have my bloody diary with me right now," Sirius growled. "So you'll just have to wait, you bureaucratic..."

"How about Thursday next?" Hermione interrupted. "If you could accommodate us in the early evening, perhaps around six, we'll be happy to answer any questions you may have about our home and lifestyle."

She could see the inner war the man was waging in his head. On the one hand, she had just given him what he wanted: a solid date and time. On the other hand, her suggestion meant that he would have to address her with a form of gratitude, which he wasn't quite prepared for.

"I...yes, I can accommodate you on Thursday at six," he finally said.

"Good. Now be off with you," Sirius snapped, and the man knew better than to dawdle.

As he hurried off, Hermione arched an eyebrow at her fuming husband.

"It's not that I don't appreciate the support, Sirius, but the voracity was a little much, don't you think?" she asked.

"If I hadn't said anything, he would have carried on being a pompous arse and since we have to deal with him for the foreseeable future, I figured I'd deal with it head-on," he replied. "Besides...call me crazy but I sort of like fighting for your honour. Call it stupidity or chivalry, but it gives me a kick."

Hermione smiled slightly.

"I found it charming. Thank you," she said, and she gave him a light kiss as a reward, feeling oddly refreshed that the militant feminist side of her brain had not produced any thoughts of righteous indignation.

Perhaps she was growing up.

"Care to dance, darling?" Sirius asked, proffering his hand.

She gave him an odd look.

"Now?" she asked.

He smiled slightly.

"Well, this is a gala. There _is_ music and there _are _people dancing. But I suppose, practically, it will give us a three hundred and sixty degree view of the crowd."

She blushed slightly.

"Yes...yes, I suppose I should have thought of that."

She took his hand, and he swept her gracefully into his embrace, moving onto the dance floor with an elegance she hadn't expected.

But of course she should have known he would be a divine dancer. After all, as a lover, he was unparalleled.

"Is it odd that Alexandra hasn't moved from her spot in the corner?" Hermione whispered in Sirius's ear as they moved around the dance floor.

"Is it odd that Selena keeps glancing at her as if she's worried about something?" he replied.

"I'm getting the feeling that something bad is going to happen."

"Yeah. I have that feeling too."

They looked at each other for a long moment, understanding passing between them. Originally, they were going to wait for at least an hour so suspicions wouldn't be raised. It seemed, however, that to do so would no longer be the smartest option.

"Mrs. Irons-Mulroney," Sirius said grandly as the pair paused in front of Alexandra, Lucius and Narcissa. "Fancy seeing you here. You remember my wife, Hermione," he added.

Alexandra looked at them warily and Hermione noticed Lucius and Narcissa shift a bit closer to the witch.

"Yes, Mr. Black. How are you?" the woman finally said, though her eyes were looking around for some way to escape.

"Oh, never better! And you?"

"Very well, thank you."

"Mr. and Mrs. Black, we heard about your wedding. Quite the blessed event. Shame it couldn't have been at Hogwarts, we would have so liked to have been there," Lucius said graciously, his steel eyes cold and calculating.

"Well, you know the Board of Governors, Lucius. One minute they're smiling sweetly at you, the next they're hitting you over the head with some...regulation or other," Hermione replied, smiling ruefully as she remembered the bump on her head from her time with him and the Death Eaters.

"But everything went off without a hitch," Sirius said as Lucius's face darkened. "And just to show there are no hard feelings, Alexandra, I was wondering if I could have this dance?"

Alexandra looked startled as Lucius and Narcissa became more suspicious.

"Dance?" she asked. "You want to dance with me?"

"Only if it's alright with your gaolers here," he replied, motioning to Lucius and Narcissa.

"I don't think that's..." Narcissa started but Hermione interrupted.

"I'd be honoured if Lucius could tolerate a dance with me," she said. "After all, from what I understand, he's one of the best dancers in the country, my husband's own prowess notwithstanding."

Lucius, now fully suspicious, narrowed his eyes. But Hermione knew that even he couldn't resist his curiosity for long. She knew he considered himself cunning enough to figure out their nefarious plans, and he was thinking of how he could turn this one-on-one time with her to his advantage - perhaps spiriting her away to hand to the Dark Lord.

Hermione saw his brain shift to the thought of the glory that would befall him should he be the one to capture her. The young witch tried not to smile at the sheer predictability of the man.

"I don't think one dance could hurt, do you, Alexandra?" Lucius said, eyes sweeping over Hermione the way an animal would look at its prey. Hermione avoided looking at Sirius, knowing that the animagus would only distract her, and it was all she could do to not look disgusted.

Taking Lucius's hand, Hermione suppressed a shudder as she stepped into his arms, allowing him to move around the dance floor with her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sirius do the same with Alexandra, while Narcissa hurried hastily over to a captivated Selena.

Knowing that it was up to her to distract the Death Eaters while Sirius worked on Alexandra, Hermione looked up at Lucius, who was watching her with rapt attention.

"What are you planning, little girl?" he asked quietly, holding her tightly.

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Malfoy," she replied smoothly, keeping an eye on Selena and her gang.

"Oh come now. Don't tell me you've had a change of heart. You don't like me, so why would you invite me to dance? What are you planning?" he asked again.

She flicked her eyes up to him.

"'Tis the season. I'm extending a hand of fellowship and cooperation," she said.

He laughed.

"No you're not. I thought you had at least an ounce respect for my intelligence, Mrs. Black."

"Oh, perhaps even less than that," she said sweetly, noting that behind Lucius, Sirius and Alexandra were close to the extraction point.

"Now now, no need to be rude," he said before pulling her closer, his lips near her ear. "I know you and that mutt husband of yours are planning something, but make no mistake, you will not succeed. Especially since you've just walked into my arms like a lamb to slaughter."

"And how do you expect to capture me in a room full of Ministry officials?"

"Wands work just fine in this building, _Miss _Granger."

She noticing Sirius making his way to the door in the corner with a barely-lucid Alexandra.

"You know the difference between me and the lamb, Lucius?" she asked calmly.

"What's that?"

"Lambs don't wear heels."

And with that, she stomped as hard as she could on his toe with her heel before kneeing him subtly in the groin. The man gave a loud shout, and as everyone turned to stare, including - much to her relief - Selena and crew, Hermione disappeared behind the staring and whispering masses.

She managed to get to the corner without incident, slipping into the tiny janitorial closet without being seen. She jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder, but was relieved to see Sirius looking back at her.

"How'd it work?" she asked, noticing Alexandra's lolling head in the corner.

"Precisely the way it was supposed to," he replied, handing her back the drugged hair pin she had given him before they left the house.

"How did you manage to scratch her with it?"

"Her hair was up so tightly that she didn't notice when I stuck her scalp with it. Here's hoping no one else noticed either."

"Right. So...what now?" Hermione asked, eyeing the door warily.

"How long does this drug work?"

"Not long in that dose. She should be coming to...now."

"_Expelliarmus!_" Sirius suddenly said, and Hermione saw Alexandra's wand soar up. Sirius caught it with ease, pointing his wand at the woman sitting in the corner. Hermione pulled out her own wand and moved to Alexandra, keeping it pointed at the woman's throat.

To her complete surprise, Alexandra burst into tears.

"I d-didn't m-mean to do it," she hiccupped, looking up at them imploringly. "I d-didn't even want to w-work on the bloody thing. I just wanted them to l-leave me alone to my own b-business but when you asked m-me to come work for you I...I c-couldn't stop them a-and they made me d-do it!"

Hermione looked at Sirius, but the man seemed as stunned as she was. Turning back to the blubbering woman, Hermione narrowed her eyes, wondering if it was all just an elaborate trick.

"How do we know this isn't some ploy to get us to release you?" she asked cautiously.

Alexandra's eyes widened, sheer terror radiating from them and she grasped Hermione's hand.

"You c-can't send me b-back," she gasped, hiccupping again. "Not now. They'll kill me."

Sirius took a step closer.

"What do you mean, they'll kill you? What for?"

"Because I…because of what I know. They know that you…the Order…have discovered certain things, and they know that I'm…I'm weak because…"

She sighed, looking up at Sirius with a look so tender that both the animagus and the confused brunette arched an eyebrow. Looking at each other, they both got the distinct impression that their epic mystery was about to take another yet sharp twist.

"Merlin," Alexandra finally said, still gazing up at Sirius, "You look so much like him."

Sirius blinked.

"Sorry…like who?"

Alexandra smiled gently.

"Like my husband."

"Which one?" Hermione deadpanned, unable to help herself as she felt slightly possessive of her handsome husband.

Alexandra glared at her.

"Not any of the ones I've been pushed to marry in the past twenty years," she spat. "My first husband, and the only one I ever loved."

Sirius frowned.

"And…he looks like me?"

Alexandra's face darkened.

"Looked. He looked like you. He's dead now."

Hermione glanced at Sirius before opening her mouth to ask the question she was sure she already knew the answer to, her stomach clenching with the beginning of an understanding for part of the mystery.

"Who was he?" she asked.

Alexandra looked up at them, eyes shining with new tears.

"Regulus Arcturus Black."

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_Hope you liked it._

_And if you didn't, don't be afraid to leave me a review with your penname so I can respond to it appropriately. :-)_


	38. Chapter 38: A Question of Art

****_**A/N: **See? For those of you who follow me on Twitter, I promised you an update today & you've gotten one, plus or minus an hour or so._

_Thanks, Amy! You ROCK!_

* * *

**Chapter 38 – A Question of Art**

"Good God, I've _never_ been so glad to be home," Hermione said as, hours later, she and Sirius returned to their house in Bloomsbury.

"I must admit, life has certainly not been dull since I married you," Sirius joked, helping Hermione shrug out of her cloak before hanging it up by the door.

"I could do with a little dullness," Hermione sighed. "I long for an afternoon where the only thing we have to worry about is that pile of unopened wedding gifts we _still_ haven't managed to get through."

"And you thought being under the Order's restrictions would be curb the adventure," Sirius said with a smile before adding, "Though, it _has_ gotten way too strange for my liking."

"What _hasn't_ been strange about this whole ordeal?" she replied, walking into the kitchen and all but collapsing on the bench of the breakfast nook.

"Well," he said, a smirk on his face as he slid in close to her. "There have been _aspects_..."

Hermione chuckled in spite of herself. The night had been eventful, to say the very least. Due to quick thinking and a well-concealed flask of Polyjuice Potion, Hermione, Sirius, and Alexandra were able to leave the gala unscathed - though it did take some convincing on Hermione's part to assure Sirius that the foreign dignitaries she had procured the hair from were not well-known in the highest social circles of the Ministry.

They had gone directly to Draco and Enrico's cottage, and after convincing them that the best course of action was to house Alexandra there, the four had spent the past hours interrogating the woman for every piece of information she possessed.

Hence their late return and exhaustion.

"Why is it that whenever we come across something that seems like a lead to the end of this mystery, we always end up with more questions than answers?" Hermione asked, laying her head on Sirius's shoulder.

"Because if everything came easily to us, it would be too unusual and we would immediately suspect it," he replied, running his hand through her hair gently.

"True," she said. "I just wish this whole mystery wasn't compounded by several other mysteries and twists and turns. It's doing my head in."

"Oh, I suspect your head was done in long before these mysteries came around," Sirius joked, to which Hermione elbowed him smartly in the stomach.

"You lot are making quite a racket," a voice said, and both turned to see Remus standing in the doorway. Hermione tried not to smirk as she surveyed how dishevelled he looked.

"Good night?" Sirius asked mildly, but Hermione knew from the slight upturn of his lip that Remus's appearance hadn't escaped him either.

"Yes, thank you," Remus replied briskly. "Yours?"

"Eventful," Hermione replied.

"Why? What happened? Was there a problem at the Ministry?" Remus asked, sitting down across from them, eyes alert.

"No, not so much that," Sirius said. "Only...we may have kidnapped Alexandra Irons-Mulroney."

Remus blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

Carefully, Hermione started to fill Remus in on all the events that had transpired that night, as well as clueing him into the research she had made of Alexandra and Selena. She was a little less forthcoming with the details of the spell that Snape had told her, knowing that Remus would be curious as to the manner of how that information was procured.

And she was not ready to tell him that she had made an Unbreakable Vow with Severus Snape.

"You've been busy then," Remus finally said, though she didn't miss his tone of mild exasperation.

"Well, you didn't think I'd sit idly by, did you?"

Remus sighed.

"Hope ever springs eternal," he deadpanned. "Alright, then, what have you discovered about this spell?"

Hermione and Sirius looked at each other.

"Nothing," they both said.

Remus looked at them both incredulously.

"Do I look like I was born yesterday? Don't answer that," he added quickly to Sirius, who wisely swallowed whatever witty rejoinder he had prepared. "You two have gone off on your own and sunk knee-deep into this muck. You can't keep it all to yourselves. Now out with it."

"Honestly, Remus," Hermione said. "We talked to her for hours about it. She doesn't remember a thing. All she remembers is going to the house with Voldemort, going up the stairs, seeing Lily next to Harry's crib, watching Voldemort torture her...then nothing. She only said she remembers being horrified, which I found incredibly strange."

"Why would you find it strange that she remembers being horrified?" Remus asked.

Sirius gave him a level look.

"Of course, because compassion is such a pervading trait amongst Death Eaters," he said sarcastically.

"That's actually not why I found it strange, though," Hermione said. "I found it strange because of the painting."

"The painting?" both men said.

"Yes. In the painting, it was _Selena_ who looked horrified and Alexandra who looked cold and detached. But Severus said-"

"Severus?" Remus asked.

Hermione cringed somewhat.

"Er...yes. Severus and I had a bit of a talk...after I took him to see the paintings. He said that when they were younger, Selena trailed after Alexandra like a puppy. He said Alexandra was always the more ruthless of the two. But the Alexandra we met tonight...well...she didn't seem like that. Quite the opposite, really. And from my dealings with Selena, it's almost as if..."

She trailed off, a startling realization coming to her. Sirius must have had it too, because they looked at each other and said:

"The _Cruciatem Transdictum_."

"What about it?" Remus asked.

"Snape said it fractured the mind, body and soul of everyone in the room for just a moment before balancing itself out," Sirius explained. "But we think things might have gotten a bit muddled and a part of Selena's soul - the _real_ Selena - must have gone into Alexandra's body."

"But that still doesn't necessarily explain things," Remus said. "After all, Selena may have been horrified by what she saw but she had still seen quite a lot before then. She was a Death Eater, after all."

"Yes...and Kingsley's research did essentially say that the Alexandra _we_ know dropped out of socializing with the Death Eaters right after the Potters deaths," Hermione said.

The three sat in silence for a few more minutes before Remus spoke again.

"We're putting an awful lot of stock in a painting that we can't really verify as real," he said.

"I have no doubt that it's real," Sirius replied. "The big question is, who painted it?"

Hermione gasped.

"Alexandra," she whispered.

"What?" Sirius said.

"Alexandra painted them. Only...it would have been _Selena_ at the time."

Remus looked at Sirius.

"Can you translate, please?"

Hermione looked at them.

"I don't know how to explain it all, but..." She took a deep breath. "The person who painted it had to have been in the room. Since I'm fairly sure it wasn't Voldemort that leaves Selena and Alexandra. And since the painting portrayed Selena as looking horrified, it had to have been someone who is expressing deep regret, which definitely wouldn't be the Selena Selwyn _we_ know."

"That person would also have to be deeply familiar with Regulus's work," Sirius added, catching on. "And Alexandra was married to him."

"But Alexandra wasn't the one who looked horrified in the painting," Remus said, starting to get frustrated.

"Right, but if their personalities shifted, then their realities shifted too," Hermione said, getting very excited. "So the Alexandra that we know today is, in reality..."

"The Selena from the painting," Sirius finished with a smile.

Remus frowned.

"It can't have been as simple as a personality switch," he said. "How would they have lived for the past twenty years? You can't just be a person trapped in another's body and not have it affect you."

"Really? Have _you_ ever been trapped in another person's body?" Sirius asked.

"Every full moon of the year, mate," Remus snapped.

Hermione sighed.

"Well...even if it isn't as simple as all that, I'm fairly certain the Alexandra we spoke to tonight was the person who painted the death of the Potters."

"You know...there _is_ a way to verify it," Sirius said.

"How? Give her some paint and canvas?" Remus asked sarcastically.

"No," Sirius replied. "Show her the painting."

Hermione cocked her head.

"You know, that's not the worst idea," she said.

He looked at her.

"Why the tone of surprise?" he asked, attempting to sound wounded.

"I think it's because she knows those don't happen very often with you," Remus deadpanned, to which he received a rather rude hand gesture from his friend.

"Remus?"

All three turned to the doorway, and Hermione broke into a grin when she saw her cousin standing there, hair down and as dishevelled as Remus's, wearing nothing but the dress shirt he had been wearing earlier that evening.

"Is that the fashion that Muggles are wearing these days?" Sirius teased.

Emily smirked.

"It's our evening attire for when we want to impress the boys," she replied, slinking over to the table and leaning in to Remus. "Impressed?"

Hermione laughed as Remus opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"I never thought there was a force on earth that could render Moony speechless," Sirius said, to which the hand gesture he had sent his friend was smartly returned.

"I'm lonely. Come fix that," Emily said in a husky whisper to Remus before taking a nip at the werewolf's ear.

Hermione bit her lip, trying not to laugh out loud at the audible growl that left the man's lips before he all but leapt from the table, swept Emily up in his arms, and dashed out of the room.

Sirius looked at her.

"Now, I know that I should probably respond similarly, considering he's raised the bar so high, but my back's been giving me some trouble, you see…"

Hermione laughed.

"Come on. Let's go to bed," she said, pushing him out of the nook so she could stand. Then she shot him an impish grin, adding, "Old man."

As Sirius gave her a very indignant look, Hermione smiled angelically. Heaving a sigh, he swept her up in his arms and she giggled as she bounced while they walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"The things I do in the name of chivalry," Sirius said, shaking his head with a resigned air about him.

Hermione smacked him on the shoulder.

"You love it and you know it."

He paused on the steps and looked into her eyes.

"Yes I do," he said softly, kissing her gently on the nose. "But only with you."

She cuddled into his arms.

"I should hope so."

He rested his chin upon her head.

"Always."

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_

_Until the next installment..._


	39. Chapter 39: A Reality Check

_**A/N:** Oh dear. It really has been an unforgivably long time since I've updated this, hasn't it?Well, I promise you all now that I'm going to make an effort to update this at least twice a month. I don't want to promise every week (though I will actually aim for that goal) but I think I can handle twice a month._

_A little personal update - I was laid off from my very comfortable job in June (::sob::) and was forced to move from New York to Boston (::double sob::) due to finances (::openly weeping::). As you can imagine, my life has been in something of a roller coaster of late so once again, apologies for the delay._

_I'd like to give a particular shout-out to_ **Scribe4Hire**_, who has been nothing but gracious as she follows my Twitter ramblings and motivated me to get my arse in gear on this chapter._

_As per usual, this is not beta'd. Please don't be a twat about it in the event that you decide to review. I will mock you soundly for it in my mind._

_Thanks!_

* * *

**Chapter 39: A Reality Check**

Hermione was exhausted.

It had been a long time since she had felt so completely drained from what really only amounted to a week of work and research, but then again, the last time she had put so much effort into something, she had been younger and hunting for horcruxes. It was incredible how much difference a few years made and as she stepped out of the floo into the house, the first coherent thought she had was to go straight upstairs into a bath, then bed.

Alas, she knew that particular instinct would have to wait.

Shrugging out of her travelling cloak, she glanced at the tidy pile of parchment on her desk. She knew that all those pages contained more mysteries than she could handle. The top one was notes solely about Alexandra. Sirius's scrawling script mingled with her own told her that he had gone to the cottage again that day to see if he could gain any more information from her.

Hermione had left Sirius in charge of that particular mystery. Though he never said it, she knew that it was a form of therapy for him. Alexandra had known his brother in Regulus's final months; Sirius needed closure on that particular aspect of his guilt. Hermione had allowed him to pursue it without argument.

Aside from the emotional developments, however, they had discovered precious-little about the _Cruciatum Transdictum_ spell in the week they had spent talking to Alexandra. They had confirmed that she had painted the last two Unforgivable paintings, but had concluded from her vague recollections that she had done them while recovering from whatever the backlash of the spell had done to her. So they were at an impasse.

Hermione was starting to dread the next part of the plan. She knew Severus wanted Alexandra dead; the only reason why he hadn't made a move was because Hermione had convinced him that they still needed Alexandra for information. But that reasoning was wearing thin and she knew it. Severus was out for blood and he would get it, one way or another.

And that was only one in the top ten of the worries that weighed on her mind.

"Sirius! I'm home," she called into the house as she stepped into the foyer. Her voice echoed through the cavernous hallway.

"In the drawing room, darling," came the reply.

Hermione frowned. They never used the drawing room. Even when they were entertaining their friends, the kitchen, like the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, had always been the natural place to congregate. One glance at her watch, however, told her why her husband was in the little-used room and so she took a deep breath, pasting on a bright smile before stepping through the partially-opened door.

Had she known better, she would have thought she was intruding upon a bastion of male privilege. Sirius and their pet bureaucrat, Mr. Crisp, sat comfortably in the overstuffed leather chairs, smoking cigars and drinking what appeared to be brandy. Her husband was lounging in an exaggerated pose of his usual casual arrogance, one long leg crossed, ankle-on-knee, his body clad in part of a well-cut Savile Row suit. Mr. Crisp appeared to be trying to emulate the aristocratic grace of his host, but Hermione knew that next to Sirius, anyone else had the grace of a stumbling elephant.

The animagus rose to his feet with the liquid smoothness of a jungle cat and approached her with an easy smile on his face. Only the cautious grey-green of his eyes gave away his impatience with the situation. That look told her two things: one, that she was later than she should have been and two, that Mr. Crisp was being even more infuriating than usual.

"Welcome home, love," he said before kissing her. Hermione couldn't help but relax a little at the feel of his lips on hers. Sirius could fake civility, but he was genuinely happy to see her.

"Thank you, dear," she said, sliding both into the curve of his arm and into the role of charming hostess. "Mr. Crisp, I am sorry for my tardiness. It truly is unforgivable that I let myself keep you waiting."

"Oh, don't you worry about us. We were just having an interesting chat about the current Potions market, weren't we, Clive?"

Hermione trained her face against the surprise she felt at Sirius's casual use of the man's first name. Clearly, there was a power play between them that she had just stepped into. Judging from the look on Mr. Crisp's face, she was willing to bet that this power struggle would not end well for her or her husband's tenuous control over their anger.

"So glad you could join us, Mrs. Black…er, Ms. _Granger_-Black," the man said tersely, glancing at Sirius to make sure the pureblood had marked his correction.

"Given the situation, Mr. Crisp, I'm sure my husband wouldn't mind if you called me 'Mrs. Black' during these visits would you, darling?" Hermione said, recognizing that a conciliatory concession needed to be made to satisfy his obvious discontent with her lateness. She made sure, however, that she deferred the decision to her husband, like a good little subordinate wife.

"As long as it doesn't bother you, darling," he replied, though she did catch the glance he threw at the bureaucrat that clearly said, _'Watch it.'_

"I do hope you'll forgive my little lapse, Mr. Crisp," Hermione said when the other man remained silent. "As you know, your department is so incredibly busy that we in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement feel it is our duty to help with what we can. I was in the midst of a small domestic assets case before leaving. Petty bit of business, best left to us so you and yours aren't bothered by that trivial nonsense."

"My wife has always been a strong supporter of full cooperation between Ministry departments, Clive, especially since her and her colleagues played such an important part in drafting the Marriage Law Act. After all, we're all on the same side, aren't we?" Sirius added, keeping his gaze both casual and profoundly arrogant as only he could.

"Of course," Mr. Crisp replied, though there was a reluctance to his tone that told them that he was only a fan of cooperation so far as she wasn't necessarily a part of it. "I'm sure your input is of great…import…to the Ministry, Mrs. Black, but I am on a schedule so I assume you will be more conscientious of that schedule during out next meeting."

Hermione had never met anyone who was able to sound so magnanimous while at the same time being extremely irritating. Perhaps it was a gift, though if she had been less conscious of Sirius's wary gaze, she would have responded with the spite that the comment deserved. But Sirius's body language told her that they really had lost some leverage with her late arrival, so she shot the man a dazzling smile and left the swift kick in the shins to her imagination. "Of course, sir," was all she said in reply.

Seemingly bolstered by her demure response, Mr. Crisp turned his attention to Sirius. "I must say, Mr. Black, your easy acceptance of your wife's admittedly high-profile Ministry position when your own influence is markedly less seems counter to your family's reputation."

It was Hermione's turn to subtly calm Sirius with her body language as he held himself a little straighter. "I don't have the stomach for politics," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "That said, I exert enough influence both through my wife and through my financial contributions to live up to my family's…reputation."

Had Hermione not known that it was an act, she would have been incredibly indignant at the insinuation that Sirius had any control over her not-unsubstantial political influence. But she knew his first comment had been closer to the real truth of the matter; Sirius didn't have the stomach for politics. He was willing – more than willing, eager even – to let her be the Ministry-affiliated half of the couple.

Mr. Crisp stood, producing a clipboard that had been sitting in his lap. He made a few notes before saying, "I assume that an audit of your accounts will show that your wife's earnings are going directly to you?"

"My earnings are a pittance compared to my husband's wealth, so he very wisely has me use them for household expenses," Hermione said, taking control of answering the questions in a hope to calm the slowly-emerging flush of anger that was creeping up past Sirius's collar.

She realized, however, from the decidedly unfriendly look the Ministry man shot her that her role in this inquisition was to be seen, not heard. Sirius seemed to sense this as well, because his jaw tightened. "I don't believe you need to audit my finances, Clive, nor would I give you permission should you deem it necessary."

Mr. Crisp's eyes narrowed. "I would not need your permission if I do deem it necessary, Mr. Black, nor could you stop me."

Hermione put her hand on Sirius's when she noticed it twitch toward his wand. "Sirius, you know that what's mine is yours, so we needn't get upset about it."

He glanced down at her and it wasn't a good look. She wondered how much she had missed before she arrived.

"An audit won't be necessary…yet," Mr. Crisp said, the final word hanging heavily in the air. "Let's move on to other subjects, shall we?"

"Let's," Sirius bit out.

"We noticed that you cut your honeymoon short by several days. That seems very odd," the bureaucrat said, trying for nonchalant and failing.

The muscles in Sirius's arms flexed dangerously, telling Hermione that this subject had come up in her absence and though they had prepared for it, she got the distinct impression that the question was much less mild than it sounded.

The tone in Sirius's voice as he spoke confirmed her suspicions. "I believe I've already told you that my wife was feeling unwell and we returned to England so she could consult a physician." His voice was soft, but there was a darkness to it that usually sent lesser beings into a more cautious head space.

Either Mr. Crisp was made of sturdier stuff than they originally thought, or he honestly believed he had the upper hand, because he did not so much as flinch under Sirius's hard gaze. Hermione didn't like the possibility that one, or both, or those reasons were the basis of his arrogance.

"You did say that, and yet she seemed perfectly healthy when she attended the funeral of her lover, Oliver Wood, in Scotland only days after your return," Mr. Crisp said, an almost gleeful tone of spite in his voice.

"_Ex_-lover, Clive," Sirius said, anger starting to fill his handsome face. "And I attended the funeral as well. We have never hid that Hermione and Oliver were, at one time, involved, but it's hardly relevant to the current situation."

"Perhaps they were 'involved' slightly more recently than you had originally thought, Mr. Black," the other man replied, his voice inserting air quotes around the word 'involved.' Hermione's heart sank as he pulled some photographs from his clipboard and handed them to Sirius. "These were taken just days before you announced your engagement."

Sirius barely glanced at them but Hermione's curiosity got the better of her and she examined the photographs over his arm. Some enterprising soul had used whatever the wizarding equivalent of a telephoto lens was to spy on her and Oliver through the windows of his flat. It had been the morning of _that_ Order meeting; she recognized the skirt. Her throat tightened as she caught the look of longing adoration in Oliver's face that she had either refused to see or had blatantly ignored before.

Guilt welled within her once more. Sirius seemed to notice, because he all but threw the photographs back at the smug man, his arm wrapping protectively around her body as he glared. "How dare you," he growled, and there was no longer the pretence of civility to his face or his voice. "How dare you come into my house with these photographs? How dare you try to defame my wife and an honourable man who is no longer able to defend himself? Have you _no_ sense of decency?"

Mr. Crisp stiffened, obviously unprepared for that particular response. Hermione wondered what exactly he had expected Sirius to do. "I am merely trying to prove to you, Mr. Black, that you have been taken in by this Mudblood—"

Sirius moved so quickly that Hermione could barely blink before she watched Mr. Crisp fly across the room. She had seen Sirius in action before but for some reason she hadn't realized until that moment just how dangerous he was. She had barely felt him go for his wand and she knew he hadn't uttered a word before the other man arced through the air, falling heavily against the far wall.

"You will not call my wife that word _ever_ again," Sirius said, eyes and wand trained on the bureaucrat who was struggling to stand.

"You cannot attack me! I am an officer for the Department of Magical Marriages, second only to Selena Selwyn!" Mr. Crisp said furiously as he brandished his own wand. For all his defiance, however, there was an undercurrent of fear that became visible as Sirius easily disarmed him. "You will pay for this," he continued to snarl, though he was pressing his back to the wall.

Sirius walked over to him, slowly and deliberately, eyes fixed. "Do you honestly think the threat of Selena Selwyn scares me?"

"The moment I report you, she will dissolve your marriage bonds and your Mudblood whore will go to the next man in line. And I assure you, _Mister_ Black; there is quite a queue."

Sirius held his wand to the man's throat. "You're really not making a particularly good argument in your bid to keep yourself alive, then, are you, Clive?"

"Wait," Hermione said, regaining enough of her wits to approach the pair. "What did he mean, Selena could dissolve the marriage bonds? That's impossible."

Mr. Crisp fixed her with a look so full of hate that she immediately went for her own wand, training it on him as he spoke. "All marriages enforced by the Marriage Law Act need to be sanctioned by the Ministry. Yours was, but only on paper. Your little friend, your binder, may have been Ministry-approved but he was intentionally misinformed about the parameters of your ceremony. You were not blood bonded. Without that, the Ministry can dissolve your bonds without issue."

Sirius's wand dug deeper into his neck. "You were at the ceremony and you assisted in this misinformation campaign? I should kill you right now."

"Sirius," Hermione said, placing a hand on his forearm. "The department can't possibly have that much power. The Marriage Law Act is very clear; when performed by a Ministry-approved binder, the bond is unbreakable."

"Not with the new legislation that just passed," Mr. Crisp spat.

Hermione started. "New legislation? What new legislation?"

He smirked, taking pleasure in her ignorance. "The Dissolution of Marriage Act. It passed last night."

She frowned. "There's no such act. I would have known. It would have passed my desk."

The Ministry man gave a wry smile that told both her and Sirius that they were not going to like what he said next. "Why do you think we are so amenable to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement handling our petty complaints?"

Hermione's stomach lurched. It was true that both she and Mr. Weasley had been more than a little perplexed by the new department's willingness to relinquish responsibility of some of their more tedious cases, but both had assumed that it had been arrogance in the department's perceived superiority. Clearly, the superiority was not just perceived, especially if they could draft and push through a piece of legislation while bypassing the actual legislative department.

"_Obliviate!_"

Hermione heard Sirius's spell before she could stop him and she watched the glassy, unfocused look enter Mr. Crisp's eyes. She glared at her husband. "We could have gotten more information from him, Sirius," she said, slightly exasperated.

He gave her a level look. "He didn't know anything else, kitten, and even if he did, it would only confirm that which we already knew, which is that Voldemort and his puppet government will stop at nothing to get you into his clutches, even if it means destroying the very act they tried to use to trap you in the first place."

She opened her mouth to argue, but knew that she couldn't. "What do we do with him now, then?" she asked instead.

"You fill out the rest of his paperwork. I'll keep him subdued. Then we send him on his way and pray we've bought ourselves another month before he tries this shit again."

She nodded and retrieved the clipboard that had been flung aside when Sirius attacked. Doing her best to copy the bureaucrat's cramped script, she filled out the questionnaire as closely to what she assumed his answers would be before she came to a section that made her tense. "Are you actively trying to conceive a child?" she read aloud. "Check yes or no."

Sirius looked at her, eyes blank and unreadable. "What do you think we should put?"

"I don't know," she replied. It seemed like a double-edged sword. If she said 'yes', then the expectations of them conceiving a child in the next few months would go up and she didn't know if she was ready for that level of scrutiny. On the other hand, if she said 'no,' would their reluctance be perceived as rebellion from the strict guidelines of the Marriage Law Act? Would it put them at risk for dissolution?

"I think I'll put 'yes,'" she said, at the same time that Sirius said, "Put 'no.'"

They looked at each other, the silence suddenly very heavy.

"Do you think the use of contraceptive potion will give them a reason to dissolve the marriage?" he finally asked, once again showing an eerie understanding of her thought process.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "I…er…I'd rather not give them a reason, though."

He looked at her for a moment before nodding and turning back to their slowly-blinking hostage. "Put 'yes,' then."

She did, though she knew her hand trembled slightly as she did so.

When she had completed the questionnaire, Sirius tucked the clipboard under Mr. Crisp's arm and stowed the discarded wand in the pocket of his dress robes, from where the man had originally retrieved it. Then, pasting on his lazy, casual grin, Sirius brought Mr. Crisp back to consciousness.

"Well, I do look forward to doing this again next month, Clive. I hope we answered all of your questions to your satisfaction," he said in a loud, almost jovial voice, as if the past half hour had been nothing more than a pleasant house call.

Hermione found Sirius's transition jarring, but quickly plastered a wide grin on her own face. She knew it was a little tight around the edges and didn't fill her eyes, but she didn't think Mr. Crisp, who was still reorienting himself to the situation at hand, would notice. "Yes, it was most pleasant to see you again, Mr. Crisp," she added, following Sirius as he led the other man to the door.

"I…er…yes. I shall, of course, owl you regarding next month," he said, regaining some of the pompous air in spite of his confusion.

"We look forward to receiving it," Sirius lied, all but heaving the Ministry official out the door. He didn't wait for a response as he shut it swiftly in Mr. Crisp's face.

Hermione saw his shoulders relax as he leaned against the door. Turning back to face her, she saw the relief in his eyes, but as soon as they locked eyes his expression shifted, giving her blank and unreadable. She wasn't fooled. She knew exactly what was on his mind, though she really wished she didn't.

"I don't want children this soon, Sirius," she said softly, noting the tension release from his shoulders and proving that she had been correct in her observations. She sighed. "I just think saying we are trying is the lesser of the two evils right now," she added.

He sighed. "I suppose you're right. I don't know if I honestly thought you were saying it because you want children soon, but…" He let the sentence trail off and she let him because she didn't trust herself to say anything helpful.

In the past, when she had mocked the idea of fairy tales and happy endings as a form of self-preservation, the thought of having children had been laughable. She was a warrior; a fierce, independent Amazon with absolutely no time, patience or inclination to bond herself to another person for life – let alone a tiny, helpless person.

But now, she suddenly realized she wasn't as sure of her previous convictions. The barriers she had thrown up to dissuade herself from ever believing in happily-ever-afters were fading, thanks in large part to the love she had for the man who now stood watching her with cautious, mildly-suspicious eyes. It left her with the very new, very confusing hope that she, too, could one day be like all of those fairy tale princesses she had once disdained, with her very own Prince Charming.

She had always said, as far as casting went, Sirius Black fit the mould of Prince Charming. She just hadn't banked on the potentially-dangerous thought that he could be _her_ Prince Charming.

"I think I'll go make dinner," she finally said, because it was all she really could say, and turned on her heel, walking toward the kitchen with purpose.

He didn't argue. He, like her, knew that they had too may proverbial dragons to slay before a happy ending was even within the realm of possibility.

* * *

_Thank you for reading._

_Hope you liked it._

script type="text/javascript"

var _gaq = _gaq || [];  
_ (['_setAccount', 'UA-35042036-1']);  
_ (['_setDomainName', ' ']);  
_ (['_trackPageview']);

(function() {  
var ga = ('script'); = 'text/javascript'; = true;  
= ('https:' == .protocol ? ' ssl' : ' www') + '. ';  
var s = ('script')[0]; .insertBefore(ga, s);  
})();

/script


	40. Chapter 40: A Breath Before the Storm

_**A/N:**_ _An update, as promised.__  
_

_As always, this is unbeta'd. Do your worst._

_UPDATE: Upon reading it again, I realized that I had missed a couple of sentences when I was transposing. 'Tis now edited. Apologies._

* * *

**Chapter 40 – A Breath Before the Storm**

Hermione looked around nervously as she sat, waiting, in the nearly-deserted pub. Knockturn Alley was the absolute last place she wanted to be. She would have much rather been in the cosy little cabin with Sirius, Draco and Enrico, interrogating Alexandra in relative safety. The approaching dusk had the less-savoury of the already unsavoury crowd milling around, beady eyes watchful. It wasn't the smartest plan, meeting up with one of the wizarding world's most wanted in a location where people were likely to sell their grandmother if it meant making a galleon, but it wasn't her plan and therefore she sat, waiting, hoping that her glamours would hold up to the scrutiny surrounding her.

"Is this seat taken?" the familiar deep drawl of her former professor suddenly issued from beneath a black hooded cloak and Hermione had to stifle a cry of surprise at his sudden appearance.

When she regained her composure, she mutely gestured to the seat across from her. He sat and she gave a small nod. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

He nodded, cool onyx eyes shaded by the hood. "I had hoped this would be a quick rendezvous," he said softly.

"Yes, of course," Hermione replied. "I…we need more time."

"I'm growing impatient, Miss Granger. How much more time do you need?"

"We're trying to get as much information as possible and Alexandra remembers more and more every day. Granted, it's not a lot and she still hasn't remembered anything to do with the…spell…but the more I…we…talk to her the more I'm convinced that she was not willingly complicit in what happened to…to Lily."

She could almost feel the iciness of his gaze and she was grateful that she couldn't see his face. "What exactly are you asking of me, Hermione?" he asked softly.

"I…I hardly know," she admitted. "I just…she's remorseful, Severus. In fact, I haven't seen a more remorseful person in all my life. Those paintings…I think they were Alexandra's way of trying to make amends…to tell the world the truth of that night and to warn—"

"And how do you know that she's not playing upon your sympathetic nature in order to spare herself from a fate that she justly deserves?"

Hermione shuddered at the spite in his voice. "I don't think she deserves death, Severus," she said quietly. "She was tricked and coerced to do something evil and her regret has reached points of hysteria at times. I think of her as a victim more than villain."

"Even after what she did to you?"

Hermione gave him a level stare. "She did what she had to do, Severus, and don't for a moment pretend that your zealous desire for vengeance has anything to do with me. She knows what she did was wrong but—"

"She assisted in a brutal murder, Miss Granger. I think we've passed the point of 'wrong'. Reluctant though she may have been, she did nothing to try and stop what happened so don't you _dare_ try to tell me—"

"And what happens if you do kill her, Severus?" Hermione interrupted. "What then? You know as well as anyone that it won't bring her back and even if it succeeded in making you feel better, which it won't, do you think Lily would have wanted you to—"

"Don't!" he shouted, causing heads to turn in interest. Hermione inhaled deeply as Severus pulled back the hood slightly, giving her the full force of his anger. "Don't you dare say what you were about to say, Miss Granger," he hissed angrily. "You cannot even begin to fathom the pain that I have endured for over two decades."

"You're right, I can't," she said. "But I can tell you that the situation is not as black-and-white as you want it to be and for all your anger, Severus, you are not the type of man who would kill a flawed but innocent woman in cold blood."

"Am I not?" he countered, his eyes sharp and cruel.

Hermione inhaled deeply again, steeling herself before responding, "No, Severus. You are not."

He looked at her for a moment, eyes softening only slightly as he surveyed her. Then he nodded. "I'll make you a deal," he said. "Mr. Potter and his…entourage…are returning tonight. When you see him next, tell him the story – all of it. Take him to see the paintings and to talk to Alexandra. If he feels that she deserves a second chance…I will consider it."

Hermione blinked. "R…really? If Harry says 'no' then…then you won't do it?"

"I will consider it."

"If _Harry_ says 'no'? Harry _Potter_?"

His eyes narrowed. "Have I made myself unclear in some way?"

"Well, no, but…it's just that you're not exactly Harry's biggest fan."

"And does that matter?"

"No. I'm just…I suppose I'm just confused, is all."

"Imagine how much that matters to me."

She frowned at him. "No need to be rude."

"Then don't question my motives, Miss Granger." He stood abruptly and started to walk away. Then he paused, turned and pulled something from beneath his cloak. He dropped it on the table in front of her, saying, "Here."

Seeing a non-descript roll of parchment, Hermione picked it up tentatively before glancing at him. "What is it?"

"Call it a wedding gift," was all he said before turning and walking away before she could ask anything else.

People had started staring at them, so Hermione quickly stowed the parchment under her robes and hurried out of the pub. Making sure she wasn't followed, she dropped her glamours the minute she hit the Leaky Cauldron and after a friendly wave to Hannah, took the floo home. She was dusting the ash from her cloak just as Sirius stepped into the library, his notes on Alexandra in his arms.

"Hello, love," he said with a broad smile, placing the notes on her desk before moving to help her out of her robes. "Productive meeting?"

She let him give her an affectionate kiss on the cheek before she collapsed onto the large leather sofa. "I don't know if 'productive' is the right word. Severus can be…trying."

He smiled as he sat next to her. "You won't get an argument from me on that, darling."

She chuckled, letting her head fall onto his shoulder. "I know. But he's given us more time, which is essentially what we wanted. Though…it does come with a rather intriguing catch."

She could feel Sirius rolling his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

She looked up at him. "No, really. I don't know what to make of it."

"Tell me."

"He wants us to tell Harry. Tell him about the spell, about Lily, show him the paintings, take him to meet Alexandra – everything. He says that if Harry believes she should stay alive, he'll consider keeping her alive." She waited for Sirius's reaction but he suddenly seemed very guarded. Hermione frowned, adding, "This is good, isn't it? Harry would never want her dead. Not after he hears the whole story."

Sirius shook his head slowly. "I don't know, 'Mione. I'm not as confident as you."

She sat up, looking at him in disbelief. "What? Why not?"

He shrugged. "Just a…a feeling. Something that's been bothering me for awhile, actually."

"About Alexandra?"

"No. About Harry."

Hermione blinked. "About _Harry_?"

"Yes. I can't…I can't really pinpoint it but…the more time I spend with Alexandra the more I'm convinced it has something to do with her."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

He sighed. "I know this all sounds rather stupid but…there's been something about Harry's behaviour that didn't sit right with me. I was able to justify it in my head but…something Alexandra said to me today made me think…" He trailed off and then shook his head. "I'm sorry, love. I know I must sound like a raving lunatic."

"Not any more than usual," she teased and he laughed. "So what did Alexandra say?"

"Well, we were talking about why she and Selena had been avoiding each other for so many years and she told me that the first time she saw Selena after the spell, she had this…this overwhelming feeling of sadness and betrayal. She said it was hard to control her actions because of it, and not just when she was around Selena, but anywhere. The slightest thing would set her off into a depression."

Hermione frowned. "Well…that seems like an appropriate response given what she went through."

"Yes, but then she told me that the only other time she felt anything with that much severity was the moment she met Harry."

She arched an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"That's what I said. But she said that the moment she met Harry she felt a surge of affection."

"You're joking."

He shook his head. "I honestly wish I was, love, but it now looks like we're dealing with something far more complicated than we originally thought." She arched an eyebrow and he chuckled. "Alright, fine. More complicated than the already complicated clusterfuck we're dealing with."

She nodded. "Right. So…now there's an emotional aspect to deal with. Clearly the spell imbued Alexandra with Lily's emotions as well as the original Selena's emotions. God, I don't know how moviemakers can keep characters straight in those body-switching films. It's doing my head in."

Sirius ran an affectionate hand over her cheek. "Well, I don't think it's as simple as Alexandra being imbued with these emotions. I don't think it's just her."

"What do you mean?"

"Think about it. Snape said the curse didn't work perfectly because there was an extra person in the room. Now, we know that Alexandra and Selena changed the most but…but what if they weren't the only one who was influenced by what happened in the room? And what if Alexandra isn't the only one who has to deal with overwhelming, heightened emotions when confronted with people who were in the room?"

"Are you…are you saying that Harry…the Harry we know…is a construct of that night?"

"Well, he was a baby, so I don't think there was much that could have changed physically or mentally. Emotionally, however…yes. I mean, his behaviour since he met Alexandra has been a bit uncharacteristic, hasn't it?"

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Has it?"

"I think so. He's been…angry. Beyond his general angst, I mean. His fight with you after our engagement party; his fight with me around the same time – I know he has a bit of a temper but those lingered much longer than I think they would have normally. I think something triggered within him when he met Alexandra, just like something triggered within her."

"When were you going to mention this theory to me?"

"Well, I didn't really have a coherent theory until just now, my love," he said with a chuckle. "But I also didn't want to say anything earlier because I thought I was imagining it. I figured you would have said something if you noticed anything off. After all, you've known him longer."

Hermione took a moment to process this. I was true that she had spent more time with Harry than Sirius, but over the past few years their relationship had changed. She had been so involved with work and her escapades that she had barely noticed the goings on in Harry's life. A wave of guilt started to grip her. This was her brother-in-arms; a man she had sworn more than once to protect with her life, and she could barely remember the last time they had had a real conversation.

"I think you should probably talk to Ron and Ginny when everyone gets back. If there's anyone who would have notice a change, it would be them," she finally said. "I'll talk to Harry, maybe take him to the cottage if he isn't too tired from his honeymoon." She looked down at her feet. "I'm afraid I haven't been a particularly observant friend of late."

She felt Sirius kneel in front of her, taking her face in his hands. "I know that look, darling," he whispered, kissing her each eyelid. "You cannot keep blaming yourself for every wrinkle that arises in life. It is not your responsibility to catalogue every emotion that Harry has. It would be incredibly exhausting."

She smiled slightly. "Can't fault me for something that comes naturally, Sirius. I am naturally predisposed to blaming myself for everything that happens. Call it a gift."

He smirked. "A gift. Sure. We can call it that for now."

She laughed, kissing him before remembering the parchment. She pulled away quickly and jumped up, almost tripping over Sirius. "Speaking of gifts," she said, hopping over her confused husband to retrieve her outer robes. "Severus gave me something before he left."

Sirius sighed, sitting on the sofa again. "I'm going to try not to be insulted by the fact that our kiss inspired a memory of Snivellus." She shot him a look for the name and he countered it with his own haughty stare. "I will call him whatever I want when he pulls you away from me, thank you very much."

Hermione rolled her eyes and fished out the parchment. Returning to the sulking animagus, she plopped down on his lap and together they unrolled it. After reading the first few words, they exchanged a look of incredulity.

"Did you tell him?" Sirius asked.

"Of course not. Really, Sirius, of _all_ the people I'd tell."

"Then how on earth did he know?"

Severus had given them a copy of the Dissolution of Marriage Act, along with the exact instructions of how to perform a blood bond. They read through it silently, reluctantly marvelling at how diligently they had covered potential loopholes. When they had both gotten the gist of everything, they looked at each other.

"I'm not going to sugarcoat this, love. The timing is incredibly suspect," Sirius said solemnly.

"I know," Hermione replied. "Do you think he has contacts in the Ministry who could have told him about this?"

"How would they know? We wiped Crisp's memory. Have you told anyone?"

Hermione shook her head. "I was going to wait until the Order meeting tomorrow. Have _you_ told anyone?"

"No. I haven't even told Remus."

"Told me what?"

Both Hermione and Sirius leapt up from their seats, spinning around to see their friend paused at the door, looking at them curiously. Due to his relationship with Emily, Remus was all but living at the Bloomsbury house now, coming and going as he pleased. Under normal circumstances, they were delighted to have him, especially since it seemed like he and Emily were careening toward the happily-ever-after he had once wanted with Hermione.

"Told me what, you two?" Remus repeated, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"Told you…how much we simply _love_ you popping in whenever you like," Sirius said wryly.

Remus chuckled. "Clever, Pads. Now, what haven't you told me?"

"Nothing," Hermione said. "It's nothing. Really. Nothing."

"Just a bit of silliness," Sirius added.

"As I said…"

"It's nothing."

Remus arched an eyebrow. "You know, for as intelligent as the two of you are, you're really quite pants at lying on the spot."

Sirius pretended to look wounded. "How dare you! We're not lying!"

Remus was unmoved. "Uh-huh."

"We're not lying," Hermione said as sincerely as she could. "We're just…not telling you something."

"You both do realize that, semantics aside, that's pretty much the same thing as lying, don't you?"

Hermione sighed. "Remus, I promise you that you'll find out soon enough. Just…not right now."

"Yes. All will be revealed at tomorrow's Order meeting," Sirius added, giving his friend a bright, salesman-esque smile while gesturing grandly like a magician.

Remus narrowed his eyes slightly. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"What? No!" Hermione squeaked quickly, eyes wide. Sirius looked at her, amused, as she cleared her throat. "Um…nothing like that."

"Right." Remus looked at the two of them for one more moment then nodded, turning and walking back out into the foyer.

Sirius arched an eyebrow at his wife. "I don't think I've ever seen you look so flustered."

She exhaled slowly. "I'm just…not ready to broach that hurdle."

He shrugged. "No argument from me, love, but you know that we'll need to talk about it sooner rather than later, right?"

She sighed. "Let's make sure we're legally married first. Then we'll talk about children."

He chuckled. "Fair enough. So…how do you think Snivel…Snape found out?"

Hermione frowned. "I don't know. But…he's on our side so…does it matter?"

"Are you still sure he's on our side?"

"Of course. What possible reason would he have to betray us now? He's a wanted man."

"I know, but…"

"Sirius," Hermione interrupted, getting the feeling that they were headed to a familiar argument that she was tired of having and deciding that an abrupt distraction was necessary. "Have I ever mentioned how sexy you are?"

He frowned. "What?"

She gave him a disarming smile and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Have I ever mentioned," she said, kissing his neck. "How sexy you are?"

He looked at her for a moment, perplexed, before chuckling. "Oh, I see what you're doing. Distracting me with flattery will get your nowhere."

She feigned innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

He smirked. "Alright, you win. Snape is a good guy and I'm being paranoid. Now," he leaned down, nipping at her earlobe. "Tell me how sexy I am."

Several hours later, Hermione woke with a start. Sirius lay sleeping beside her, arm slung carelessly over her bare stomach. Her body was luxuriously relaxed, but a feeling of dread was starting to build. Extricating herself from her husband's embrace, she padded to the bathroom. She tried to ignore the delicious ache between her legs, praying that her gut was wrong.

She took a deep breath as she opened the medicine cabinet, preparing for that which she already knew. Seeing it confirmed, she cursed and slammed the cabinet closed. She leaned over the sink, bowing her head as she berated herself for her stupidity.

She had been so busy that she had forgotten to brew more contraception potion. And now she was out. And she hadn't taken any that day.

"Shit," she murmured. "What now?"

* * *

_Thanks for reading._

_More to come._


End file.
